Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only
by Ifuonlyknewgrl
Summary: It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris above a small café. HPDM.
1. Chapitre Un

Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only

Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only

SUMMARY: Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain.

--

Et aujourd'hui il me semble que tout le monde doit apprendre

Qu'il y a des choses plus grandes, les douleurs plus profondes dans ce monde

L'imagination doit pas etre feconde a comprendre et confondre ce monde

Avec les plafonds de l'enfer

-Speechwriters LLC

* * *

Chapitre Un

December 15, 2006

He wanted to feel like Britain wasn't the same without him—that he wasn't the same person without Britain. There was a refreshing change in Draco that made his stay in France worthwhile. He was attending one of France's most competitive and selective magical institutions in the entire world, and it was his final year there.

Despite his many changes, Draco mainly kept to himself instead of making friends. The social network at the school was a thing that Draco avoided, instead finding refuge in the café he worked at. Where some young students would be afraid to roam around Paris at night, Draco took full advantage of it, believing that one must study all of Paris at any time of the day. He wasn't afraid of getting mugged—no, that fear was long gone after five years. The café—he lived there, above Jacques's Café. Jacques sold the best coffee in all of France, and was a lovely pastry baker, too. He worked alone, and Draco usually helped him keep order in the evening when the older man grew too tired to stand on his feet all day.

Having nearly slipped in the snow on his way home, Draco was in the foulest of moods. He had just left his Chemistry class; a muggle class offered at L'institut. Having finished taking his exam, and welcoming the Yule break with a happy smile, Draco was ready to head home. However, in a matter of minutes, the smile was whipped from his face.

He had bumped into Dorian.

"Dorian!" Draco exclaimed, his grey eyes growing wide with shock. "Mon dieu! Where the hell have you been?"

"Draco, ah…" Dorian started, looking around. "I have been very busy with Professor Tenor's class. Are you well?"

"Oui, Je vais bien, merci. But I've missed you," Draco said softly, moving to push the hair out of Dorian's blue eyes. He was tall, muscular, and beautiful. His long brown hair fell into his eyes, making him look younger than his 23 years of age.

"Draco, I am sorry…but I have a prior engagement. I have to go," he said quickly, moving from his touch.

"What? I have hardly seen you in a month, and all you can say is sorry, 'you have to go?'" Draco shouted, his eyes becoming stormy. A group of students who were passing looked at them with curious eyes.

"Draco…not now, vous m'humiliez!" he hissed. You humiliate me!

"I DON'T CARE!" Draco roared, pushing Dorian back. "What the hell is wrong with you? I've called, you don't pick up, I've talked to your flat mate, and he—" Draco flung his fist forward "—says you're out!" he cried. He kept throwing punches of which Dorian avoided.

"As-tu perdu votre tête?" Have you lost your mind? "Stop it!" he shouted, grabbing hold of Draco's flying fists. "It's over, Draco!" he shouted. Draco had froze, his wrists clasped tightly in Dorian's iron hold.

"What?"

"It's over, no more! FINISHED!" he shouted in Draco's face. "I have been meaning to tell you, but I was too worried for your state-of-being. I can no longer be with you! I'm breaking up with you!"

"But…pour quoi?"

"Vous avez beaucoup de mal à votre coeur! Je ne vous aime plus!" Dorian hissed, pushing Draco away from him. "You're so damn cruel, it makes me sick!" he shouted. The corridor grew quiet as the students watched the unfurling breakup. "C'est vraiment de ta faute!"

"IT IS NOT MY FAULT!" Draco howled, pushing Dorian back. "I am not evil, and you do love me!"

"NO MORE!" he retaliated. "I don't love you anymore, Draco!"

It was then that Draco broke into tears. Dorian was his first real love since he moved to France. It was quiet, scary, and lonely for Draco when he was a freshman at the L'institut. He had met Dorian in the corridor, looking for his first class. He was fluent in French, and was able to communicate his problems to the young, bashful boy of 19 years at the time. Draco was only 18, fresh from Hogwarts, and open to new love. He had realized in his younger years that he only felt romantically for men, but often indulged himself with women when needed to maintain his reputation at Hogwarts.

"But…I love you…" Dorian looked away from Draco's tearful face.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"You can't be that sorry to have done this."

--

Now, as Draco slipped his way home, his eyes burning with tears and the wind stinging his face, he realized that he had yet again became a failure. He had vowed that day he left the Malfoy Manor, his bags and luggage laying on the steps, his pride at its peak, and his mother and Godfather standing in the door frame that he would indeed become the best potion maker in the Wizarding world, and that he'd also learn how to love in France. He was denied the opportunity to love someone, and here, in France, he would find a lover, take him, and make him his.

Oh, how he failed.

"Merde," Draco swore, opening the door to Jacques's shop. He was a tall man, in his late fifties. He had sparkling salt and pepper hair, a nicely trimmed goatee, and warm brown eyes that danced with excitement whenever possible. He was wiping down the counter with a rag when Draco had entered the shop. His white-blond hair was in disarray, his cheeks red from the icy winds, and dried trails of tears running down the boy's sore cheeks.

"My darling, you look so sad," the old man said. He watched as Draco took his usual seat in the far corner. Because it was Yule Break, no one came running into Jacques's shop this early in the afternoon.

"I am."

"Peut-être," the man started, "vous êtes triste pour votre chéri, oui?" Perhaps you are sad for your darling, yes? Draco turned a pained expression to Jacques's aging face.

"Ah, Jacques, if only you knew!" Draco exclaimed. "I am so tired of this…merde!" Draco swore, slamming his fist onto the wobbly table. Jacques came from around the booth, a pot of lovely smelling hot chocolate in his hands. He conjured a mug and sat it before Draco, carefully pouring him a cup.

"You poor boy, tell me what the bastard did this time," he said, taking a seat across from Draco.

Draco frowned. "He said…he said…'vous avez beaucoup de mal à votre coeur!' You have much evil in your heart! And then he left. He left me feeling very tiny, with an even tinier heart, monsieur."

"The boy was an imbécile, Draco! There is no foulness in that warm heart of your, mon chéri," Jacques said softly, placing a hand over Draco's.

"Am I so incapable to find love, Jacques? Am I too much of a fool, to have ventured out to Paris to become something I could not accomplish in Britain?"

"Draco, don't say such horrible things," the man whispered. "You are a brilliant boy, with many prospects here in Paris. You will find love here, mon garçon. Everyone does. Someone is waiting for you, je promets," he said with a smile.

"Merci beaucoup Jacques, I trust you with my life, you know that."

"Oui, mon chéri, I do."

"You're like a father to me, a father I never had."

"Oui, I know." He smiled at Draco. There was a soft ringing from the door and they both turned to see a tall young boy walking into the shop. He had a traveler's bag on his back, a red jumper and dark denim jeans. His puffy coat gave away the fact that he was still very cold, and his wild, shaggy black hair was in so much disarray, a comb would not help it.

"Oh, bloody hell," the boy said, shifting around in his pocket as he pulled out a small dictionary. He looked at the little bulletin board Jacques had hanging from the wall behind the counter. He swore again as he flipped through the pages. "What the hell is a gâteau?"

"It is a cake," Jacques called from his seat. "And I have plenty of cake, if you are hungry," he said with a laugh. "I also have coffee, hot chocolate, cold or warm milk, cappuccino and much, much more if you need to know," he said, standing and walking over to the counter. The boy's eyes went wide with happiness.

"Oh, sir, I would like that very much. I'm famished!" he said. Draco discarded his coat on the seat and stood to help Jacques with the boy's order.

"Thank you, Draco. You can get the cake, and I will get the young man some coffee."

"Oh, can you make it tea, please? I don't drink coffee…" he said. Draco and Jacques stopped midway in what they were doing and gave the boy a shocking stare.

"Have you ever tried coffee?" Draco asked his eyebrows quirked up in amusement, his tone light and inviting.

"Why, yes, of course!" the boy said in confusion. "It just tastes awful to me, way too strong."

"But you have never tried my coffee," Jacques said. "It is the best in the whole, wide world." The boy looked uncertain, and turned his light hazel eyes to Draco.

"You should definitely try it," Draco said with a smile. "You won't regret it, est magnifique!" he exclaimed with a chuckle.

"All right then," the boy said, giving a slight shrug and embarrassed smile. Draco rolled up the sleeves to his black turtleneck and moved over to where the cakes were in a glass stand. He bent down and peered into the window, where he was met by the young boy's gaze at the opposite side. Draco stood upright, now holding a platter of freshly baked chocolate cake.

"Would you like to sample it?" Draco asked in a soft voice. "Jacques just made it, and I can tell you, it is very delicious…"

"I would love to," he said, his eyes lit with excitement. Draco pulled out a small plate, a cake knife, and cut the young man a small piece, giving it to him with a cake fork. When he had popped it into his mouth, the boy closed his eyes and moaned.

"This is amazing!" he cried. Jacques had joined Draco, standing beside him to watch the boy's beautiful face scrunch up in pure ecstasy. "Like magic!" the boy said. "I've never tasted something this amazing," he said. "Can I have a huge piece, please? How much is it?"

"For you, dear boy, free," Jacques said, placing a steaming mug in front of the boy on the counter.

"Re-really?" he stuttered. "Oh, I couldn't please—"

"Don't mention it! You are new to Paris, oui?"

"I am. I'm visiting for Christmas break, actually. I'm new at the University of London."

"Ah, you are just a child, how old are you, are you traveling alone?" Jacques asked his eyes wide with pity. The boy blushed.

"I'm eighteen, sir. And yes, I am traveling alone."

"I'm from Britain," Draco piped up. He smiled at the boy, who looked relived to have been saved from Jacques's pitying eyes.

"Oh, brilliant! Are…are you busy? Would…would you like to sit and chat?" he asked shyly. Draco shook his head.

"No, I'd love to sit with you," he said. Jacques smiled knowingly as he watched Draco come from behind the counter with the boy's cake, and sit across from him at a table against the wall. They faced each other.

"So, what's your name?" Draco asked, smiling at the boy as he ate his cake.

"Matthew, Matthew Winthrop," the boy said. "What's your full name, Draco?" he asked.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he replied.

"What a unique name," Matthew said. "I've never heard it before. What are you doing in France?"

"I'm studying here," Draco said as his eyes transfixed on the boy's beautiful face. His face was young, warm, and boyish. It reminded Draco of his youth, exciting and adventurous. It was written all over this boy. Matthew looked up from his cake to see Draco's intense stare. He smiled.

"What are you studying?"

"Chemistry," Draco responded, snapping from out of his trance. "I'm a senior, actually."

"Oh, chemistry, you must be very patient," Matthew said.

"I guess you can say that, but why?" Draco asked.

"Well," Matthew started, taking a sip from the coffee mug. He released a groan from the back of his throat. "This is…my god…" Draco grinned.

"It's magnificent, yes!" Draco finished for him. Matthew nodded.

"Well, Chemistry, to me anyways, is a very hard subject. You have to be good in math, you have to take time out to learn formulas, you have to…sacrifice yourself to tedious letters, digits, and vocabulary," he said, putting down his mug. Draco laughed.

"None of that is tedious to me, I adore it. What are you studying at the University?"

"Oh, I'm studying Writing."

"Oh, a young writer in the making," Draco said playfully. "You must be very creative." Matthew beamed.

"I like to think I am," he said with a shy smile. "You're very handsome, if…if…you don't mind me saying." Matthew had suddenly become very nervous, diverting his eyes from Draco's as he finished his cake. Draco smiled, surprised by the young boy's comment.

"Merci, Matthew. I think you're handsome too."

--

Matthew did not leave until very late. Jacques himself had retired to his room in the back of the shop, and Draco had entertained Matthew with various topics, having passed their small talk phrase. When Draco had led the young boy to the front of the shop, opening the door, Matthew had turned around and kissed Draco fully on the lips. Draco's hand slid from the doorknob, finding its way into Matthew's hair. After a while, the boy drew back and smiled at Draco uncertainly, searching his eyes for a response.

"That was…very nice," Draco sighed happily.

"Maybe we could get dinner sometime," Matthew said.

"I would like that," Draco started. "Would you like my number?"

"I would love it."

With Draco's number safely stored in Matthew's blackberry, the boy left the shop. Draco closed up, using his wand to place a strong anti-break-in charm for extra protection. He walked up the steps to his apartment upstairs, a small smile on his lips. Earlier, he felt drained, old, and extremely sad. But now, it was as if that kiss from the young, energetic boy, had given Draco strength and happiness to live off of for a while. He opened his apartment's door and entered the small sitting area. Only a few stairs separated the sitting area from the kitchen, where there was a nice sized oven, fridge, and sink, and space to sit a nice sized table for two in the middle. Pass the kitchen was the bathroom, and then his room. The walls were painted mustard yellow in his room. When he had first moved in, he hated the color. He missed the dark, perfection of his room at the Manor, and even his dungeon-like room at Hogwarts. This bright room, he thought then, would kill him.

But he had come to love it. The long, oval shaped windows poured in morning sunshine every day, and he had gotten a lovely, cherry-wood frame for his bed, with dark blue bed sheets. He had a small telly in the corner, and a whole wall was dedicated to books, shelves that reached the ceiling. The same was for his sitting room; a wall was dedicated to Draco's books. He had a small phone sitting besides his telly, and his own cellular phone was sitting on his bedside table. Draco had become very familiar with muggle culture after Hogwarts, realizing that he would immerse himself in this culture.

He opened his closet door and pulled out his bathrobe, deciding that he could use a nice warm shower. After spending about fifteen minutes in the shower, Draco went into his kitchen, clad in shorts and a comfortable red t-shirt that clashed horribly with his hair; he opened his fridge and drank from his container of milk, pulling out two cookies from his storage cabinet. He ate quietly; thinking about the hurt Dorian had set in him, only to remember that he would soon be having a nice date with the lovely British boy, Matthew. He then retired to his room to sleep, promising himself to wake up before Jacques, and open the shop for him. It would be a nice way to start off his Yule break.

* * *

Thank you! What do you think? I will be updating this story at a leisurely pace, because I'm writing…oh…five other stories. I might put a couple on hold just so I can update this story regularly. So please keep watch. It's my second DM/HP story. But this one will by far be my favorite one to write. Okay, so constructive criticism is accepted, please, no flames. So, just to let you all in, I don't speak French, aside from what I grasped from my dad (who is very fluent in French). But I can't sit there and ask him for everything, so I've been doing some research. But just remember, I add the French to make the story more real, so excuse the grammar/conversion mistakes if you, yourself, are a French speaker.

And yes, this story is a DM/HP fic. We're meeting our new Draco Malfoy, so of course it will take some time until we see our superhero Harry. This is a romantic story, so there won't be crazy situations revolving around sex, lies, and death. Just...romance.

Please leave your precious reviews, because they are all so very, very dear to me.

- Mlle P.


	2. Chapitre Deux

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a __small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain._

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews. Just to let you all in on it, I was inspired to write this story by James Baldwin's Giovanni's Room, only, it won't be as tragic. I turned his room into Draco's room, liquor into coffee, and betrayal into romance. _Nothing tragic, just romantic_…I've never written a postwar story, and I had to get this idea of France in my head from the book out on paper (well, internet). I really hope I can do justice to Baldwin's imagination. Jacques, is actually a character from the book, but a "watered down" version. So yes: thank you for reviewing, and now…on with the show…(**Thank you for reviews, I will pay more attention to the vous and my tu! I love you! You all totally rock!)**

**-----**

_Me satisfaire__  
__Eviter les novices__  
__Ceux qui cherchent à me faire taire__  
__Jusqu'à ce que je rentre avec l'un d'eux__  
__Car je connais la sensation__  
__De chercher le fil d'or__  
__Et de ne jamais le trouver__  
__(Coming in your pants)__  
__Qui ne pense qu'à coucher avec une__  
__fille d'affiche_

_-Metric

* * *

_

**Chapitre Deux **

_December 16, 2006_

Draco awoke to the sun pouring into his bedroom, warming his pale face. He blinked rapidly for a few seconds, realizing that it was very, very new into the morning. Scurrying quickly from the bed, he checked his cellular phone for the time. It was 7:02. Jacques would be waking soon to open the shop. He quickly jumped out of bed, grabbing his wand and casting a cleaning charm to straighten his room. He pulled out denim jeans, a dark blue sweater, and a collared white shirt. He then entered his bathroom, washing his face and brushing his teeth quickly. After dressing, he peered into the mirror and combed his hair.

When he entered the shop, he was happy to see that Jacques was still sleeping in his room in the back. He sighed in relief, inwardly cheering himself on for keeping his promise. He pulled the shades of the shop open. As always, he was taken by the beautiful sight of this little neighborhood, and the sun that poured into the shop, making it brightly lit and comfortably inviting. He unlocked the door and removed the protection charms. He put on a cup of coffee, mostly for himself rather than customers. It was 7:30, and Jacques was still asleep, when a young, petite blonde woman had entered the _café_, her sunglasses covering most of her face. She pulled them off, revealing beautiful green eyes, strong and enticing. He waited for her to talk, not really looking at her, but looking outside. Taking a long sip from his coffee, he finally looked at her, only to see that she had been staring intensely at him.

"Bonjour, monsieur," she said sweetly. Her eyes danced as she drank in the sight of Draco.

"Vous aiment un certain coffe, Mlle?" Draco asked kindly, smiling at the young woman.

"Oui, parlez-vous anglais?" she asked. _Yes, do you speak English?_

"Yes I do," he replied with a grin. The girl sighed.

"Thank God, it's nice to speak English once in a while," the woman said. Her accent was bland, and a little tough on the ears.

"Are you American?" Draco asked. The girl nodded.

"Yes, from New York."

"Oh, that's lovely," Draco said. The girl giggled.

"You're not French, are you?"

"No, I'm British, but France is like home to me now."

"Really? See, I knew you weren't French, your accent is very different," she said enthusiastically.

Draco decided to indulge her, "oh, what ears you must have," he said sweetly. The woman shrugged gracefully, but her eyes danced at the compliment. "What type of coffee would you like?"

"Strong, no cream, just a little sugar," she said. She bent forward a little and peered into the glass case filled with refrigerated cakes. "This looks delicious," she said. "Can I have a piece of that carrot cake?" she asked.

"Of course," Draco said, pulling the cake out and slicing her a piece. He packaged the cake.

"Do you…have a girlfriend here?" the girl asked, trying to maintain a casual tone. Draco looked up at her, his eyes aglow with surprise at her rather personal question.

"Mlle, Je suis homosexuel," he said with a small smile. The girl's mouth slid open in shock, and she quickly closed it.

"So do you have a boyfriend?" she asked, trying to recover from her blow.

"Not anymore," Draco said sadly, "we actually broke up yesterday."

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. "Sometimes I ask things at the wrong time."

"No, it's completely okay," Draco comforted.

"Were you guys together for a long time?"

"Oui, for about…five years," Draco answered. His eyes fell to the counter, and he glared at it. "We were together for a _very_ long time."

"I'm so sorry," she repeated. Draco handed her a large Styrofoam cup filled with hot coffee, and a small paper bag with her cake safely packed in it, shaking his head. She placed her money on the counter.

"It's quite okay," he said. "Things happen for a reason, I suppose."

"Well, it was lovely talking to you—?"

"Draco."

"It was lovely talking to you Draco. I'm Stacey, by the way," she said, sticking out her hand. Draco shook it gently.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mlle Stacey."

"I'll see you around," she said, exiting the shop.

Draco watched her make her way down the street. He wanted to put aside the fact that for the last five years, he had wasted his romantic energy on nothing. He thought he would be with Dorian forever and that he would marry and adopt children with him, like any happy couple. But Dorian was gone, and so were these dreams. Dorian had burned Draco to the core.

Jacques had finally risen, and it was nearly noon. Draco had already attended to half a dozen of customers. Realizing that it was going to be an incredibly slow day, Jacques convinced Draco to go out for a walk.

Draco had grabbed his coat and headed out. He circled the campus a couple of times; admiring the modern-style it sported. It was a purely white building, with over a dozen similar buildings surrounding it in a circle, with tinted black windows. He decided to sit by the frozen lake, and watch as some young couples skated on the thick ice. He had brought a cup of coffee and a novel with him, and he sipped quietly as he watched the pretty men and women laugh and skate. When he grew tired, he opened his book and began to read.

"Gay, _and_ a wizard," said a soft voice from behind him. Draco jumped and turned to see Matthew standing behind him.

"You're a wizard?" Draco asked astonished.

"Yes," Matthew said, taking a seat next to Draco on the bench. "I'm assuming you went to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic?" Draco started laughing.

"Why would you say that?"

"You walk and breathe beauty, is all," he said sweetly. "I graduated from Durmstrang, actually."

"Really? You don't seem at all evil, and I graduated from Hogwarts," he corrected. Matthew grinned.

"I'm not, I was always the outcast. When the war happened, I fought for the light, my father, however, wasn't so lucky."

"Same here," Draco said. "My father was actually killed by Voldemort himself," his eyes hardened.

"I know about your family, the Malfoy's."

"Evil, Beautiful, and Dark were our trademarks. Now my mother is married off to my Godfather, and here I am sitting here with you, in Paris." Matthew giggled.

"I decided to turn away from magic. That's why I went to the university. It was straightforward, and working in the muggle world is a lot easier than the Wizarding world. Have you been back to Britain yet?"

"No, not for about five years," Draco whispered. Matthew nodded.

"It's hard to go back, if you ask me. Things are so different, it scares me."

"What do you mean?"

"They've modernized the Wizarding world, trying to mimic the muggle world, if anything."

"Well, that sounds interesting to me. There are many things in the muggle world that we could use in the Wizarding world."

"I suppose, it's just a little bit of a shock," he finished.

"Hey, how come you didn't mention you knew I was a wizard in the _café?_" Draco asked suddenly, remembering how good of an actor Matthew was at hiding his magical abilities.

"I didn't know if Jacques knew what you were. I couldn't blow your cover."

"Jacques is a wizard himself. He's been living in the muggle world for nearly forty years now."

"Oh, so I guess I didn't have to keep up the charade," Matthew said shyly.

"It's okay, sometimes I can't spot a wizard or witch, and you'd be surprised." Draco stretched out on the bench, and sighed. He looked sideways and saw that Matthew was giving him a predatory look.

"Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?"

"Oh, our date, oui?" Draco said. Matthew nodded. "I'd love to."

"Excellent, I'll come round and pick you up at seven?" Matthew asked, standing. Draco followed suit and stood with him.

"Yes, that sounds good." Matthew's eyes fell on Draco's puckered pink lips and shivered. The predatory look that was once there was gone, and only held his shy hazel eyes.

"Please do," Draco whispered huskily. Matthew threw his arms around Draco and kissed him hungrily. Matthew cupped the back of Draco's head, tilting it back so he could deepen the searing kiss. When they pulled away, they realized that they were both out of breath.

"That was…" Matthew started.

"…amazing," Draco finished.

-----

"Your shoes!" Jacques cried, running towards Draco with shiny black shoes. "I want you to wear these, I always thought your feet looked quite lovely in them," he said. Draco laughed, and gratefully took the shoes from Jacques.

"Merci, Jacques."

"Your hair…beautiful as always, so…will you be coming back here, or will you be staying where ever the young man is staying?" he asked. Draco blushed deeply.

"I…I do not know. I mean, I just met him, and I've hardly gotten over Dorian yet," Draco said somberly.

"But by the way you two have been kissing; I would say that he is all you need to get over that _connard!_" Jacques said. Draco laughed.

"I suppose you're right."

"I'm always right, mon chéri."

The bell rang over the door, and Matthew stood there nervously, his hands wringing. He smiled uncertainly at Draco.

"Are…are you ready to go?" Matthew was wearing black slacks, a dark red turtleneck, and leather gloves on his hands. His matching jacket was slightly open, and Draco realized that it was not his usual puffy coat. Draco shot him a brilliant grin.

"Of course," he said smoothly, grabbing his own coat from a chair and slipping it on. He, himself, was wearing black slacks and a charcoal gray turtleneck to protect his neck from the harsh icy winds. He gave Jacques a quick hug and left the shop with Matthew.

-----

They had spent the evening at a well known restaurant called _Aux Lyonnais._ They had a small corner of the restaurant for themselves, and Matthew was determined to woo Draco in anyway. After dinner, they had walked into a nearby bar, where Draco sat at the counter with Matthew and sipped a glass of cognac with him.

"You're so very young," Draco whispered, allowing for the liquor to slide down his throat.

"You're very young too," Matthew said back, with a flirty smile. Draco dismissed the comment with a crook of his head.

"I envy your youth, if anything. You're so…indifferent to the world. You haven't seen it yet. You travel to become accustom to it, but you are still very young to it," Draco said. He could tell that after drinking so much wine at _Aux Lyonnais,_ and by drinking his second cognac for the night, that he was feeling a bit drunk. He tried to hold himself together, and not become pitying to himself. Matthew smiled politely.

"You're only four years older than me; do you believe you've seen it all?"

"_Non!_ I've not seen half of it! But I promised myself I would," Draco exclaimed. He saw the smile falter from Matthew's face.

"Are you sad, Draco?" the question was meant to be harmless inquiring for his wellbeing. It was meant to be a soothing tone, but it burned Draco similar to how the cognac was burning the inside of his throat.

"Am I sad?" Draco repeated. He slouched back into his chair. "I was never sad as a teenager. I was cold, hateful, prejudice and rude. Now, five years later there is nothing of that person left in me. I've given myself up, that Malfoy self. I'm only Draco, allowing my own self to grow forward and not be afraid of the outcome. But _merde!_ Here comes Dorian, telling me that I am cruel." Draco looked at Matthew. "We were together for five years, and he saw me at my worst. He saw me. He knew me. He loved me, even the bad parts. And slowly he turned me…he _made_ me…_love_ the world. It was such a precious gift that he gave me, and did not take back when he left. But it burns, it hurts. I feel as if I couldn't live or breathe without him. But here I am, with a young man, allowing myself to feel so soon after the burn."

Matthew dropped his eyes to the counter, realizing just how sad Draco was. He lifted his hazel eyes again and realized that Draco had a small smile tickling the corners of his pink lips. "But mon bébé, you will make me forget Dorian, oui?" Draco asked quietly.

"Oui."

-----

"Have you been staying here long?" Draco asked.

"No, just a couple of days, I'm renting from this tiny old French woman who lives across the street," Matthew said. He opened the door with his keys and they stumbled into the dark room. Draco's eyes tried to grow accustom to the dark, but he found it hard to do. Matthew flicked on the light switch, and Draco realized that if he would have kept moving forward, he would have tipped over Matthew's coffee table. They both broke out into a giggle.

"That's a relief. I wouldn't want to be sprawled on my stomach, so soon in the evening," Draco laughed. He stopped however, when he realized how that comment sounded. Draco blushed.

"It's never too soon," Matthew said huskily. He grabbed Draco about the waist and pulled him forward. They kissed feverishly, and fell onto the sofa. Draco moaned as Matthew slipped his hands underneath his coat, pulling it off of him.

"I want you," Draco whispered. "I want to feel you." Matthew closed his eyes and brought his lips to Draco's once more, slipping his tongue into the older man's mouth. Their shirts were soon off, and Matthew was leading Draco into his bedroom. Matthew pulled him inside the room, shutting the door to block out the light, and he suddenly pulled out his wand, conjuring up several candles that floated around them.

"I've never seen your wand," Draco said, slightly surprised.

"You soon will," Matthew said slyly, taking Draco's hand and sliding it over the bulge in his pants. Draco released a laugh.

"You're very naughty, Matthew." In response, the younger boy began to kiss Draco all over again. When Draco was completely naked and lying on the bed, he realized what he was doing.

"Wait…wait…" Draco started. Matthew had been sending feathery kissed down his stomach. "I…"

"What is it Draco?" Matthew asked his hazel eyes wide with concern, lifting his head to peer up at Draco. Draco shook his head. Was it too early for him? Should he really be moving this far with Matthew? What will happen after Yule Break? What will happen to him, if he opens the door to overnight swooning and one-night stands? How could he live with himself afterwards?

"How can I do this, make love to you?" he asked softly, almost shamefully. Matthew smiled.

"It's easy, actually," he said, his boyish behavior coming back to him.

"But you're just a child."

"I'm a grown man!" Matthew said crossly. "I might be eighteen, but I feel, love, and hurt just like the next person."

"But I don't know…if_ I'm_ ready for this."

"But…"

"I know, I've been leading you on," Draco sat up in the bed, peering over at the pouting expression on Matthew's face. "I'm so sorry Matthew, but when I looked down at you, at what you were doing, something caught in my heart. It made me stop." Matthew's eyes were lit with disappointment, sadness, but understanding.

"Would you like me to take you home?" he asked softly. He wasn't going to become cross with Draco. He couldn't hurt him.

"No, please. I'll take a taxi home. I don't want you walking back on your own. It's cold, and at night, Paris can become a shell of itself," Draco said softly. He leaned forward and kissed Matthew softly on the lips, watching as the other boy closed his eyes in heated acceptance of Draco's kiss. When he opened them, they glinted.

"I enjoyed tonight," Matthew whispered, watching as Draco moved his naked form from off the bed, pulling on his boxers, pants, and then turtleneck. "We have to plan another time." He turned to see Matthew, still sitting in bed with a pillow covering his lower half. His eyes were begging Draco to reconsider, to keep him in mind. To accept him. Draco knew he could have gone through with it; he could have made love to this sweet young boy, and get lost in his young adventurous soul.

But what would he be then, other than a thief, for stealing this boy's youth for his own purposes?

-----

**NEXT:** All Harry Potter! Don't WORRY--They'll meet soon.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for reading; I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I know! Draco is so mature now!! I love him. I hope this chapter added something for you. Are you getting a feel of Draco's character (i.e. what type of person he is?) Well, as always, constructive criticism is accepted, but no flames: just precious reviews that I hold dearly. **If you've read this far, it would be so awesome of you to leave a comment. I mean, you read. So tell me you did, tell me what you thought. Thanks.**

**-Mlle.** **P. **


	3. Chapitre Trois

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain._

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews! I loved them, and a couple of them made me laugh. "Scarhead" Hehe. Thank you for the corrections, the support, and oh…you should all read James Baldwin's book, you'll absolutely LOVE it. Because I love you all so much, and love this story so much, I've already written chapter 4 and 5. Yay! It's all the matter of spacing my time, and reading all your awesome comments. I'm so happy! I made an outline for this story, to make sure I have down all the cool stuff I want to put in future chapters. I'm so excited! You all completely rock! That's why I've gotten this chapter in super fast…Oh my Gosh. ON WITH THE SHOW…

**-----**_  
Plongez en moi, elle m'a ouvert le fond  
Sa voix comme sillon pour guider mes pas  
J'ai tatoué son âme  
Sous ma peau glaciale  
J'ai appris à naître  
Elle cogne dans ma tête_

_-KYO

* * *

_

**Chapitre Trois**

_December 18, 2006_

Harry James Potter was getting married.

His fiancé for five years had finally set a date. _She_ had finally made arrangements, _she_ had made all the important calls, and_ she_ had finally decided it was time. Harry was just pulled along for the ride. He watched as his Gringotts Bank account became smaller and smaller with these "arrangements" (as _she _liked to call them). He couldn't help but feel at a lost when he wandered around their small flat in London, just steps away from the Leaky Cauldron. _She _was the interior decorator of the place. _She_ doesn't help pay the rent.

"Harry, darling, do you know where my tampons are?" shouted a voice. Harry cringed. How the hell would he know where her…_unmentionables _were?

"No, I don't sweetheart."

"Bloody hell Harry, I thought you moved them from the bathroom mirror!" she shouted again. Harry thought quietly to himself, thinking about where it might be. He walked over towards the bathroom and saw that she was rummaging through the bathroom drawers. He gasped.

"Oh…yes…I put them in the cabinet," he said, entering the bathroom with her, slapping his hand over his forehead. He pulled open the small closet and reached onto the top shelf to pull down a box of _Tampax Pearl._

"How was I supposed to find that?" she asked crossly. "It's all the way up there!" Harry rolled his eyes.

"Gin, I forgot," he said tiredly. Ginny immediately frowned.

"Aw, Harry, you look so tired, it's okay, I'm sorry for shouting," she apologized softly. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck, pulling him down to kiss him on the lips. He kissed her back briefly, and was about to pull away when she brought her lips close to his ear.

"Let's make a baby, now."

-----

"So that's what happened," Harry said over a glass of firewhiskey. He was sitting in the kitchen of Hermione's apartment as she sliced up a salad for her and Harry to eat. Since Hogwarts, Hermione had become a devoted vegetarian.

"I think you reacted too harshly Harry, you could have really hurt Ginny's feelings."

"Hermione, how the hell was I supposed to react?" he asked angrily.

"Saying: 'Ew, no Gin! I can't!' is a bit on the _rude_ side Harry! And here you are at my apartment, you didn't even apologize."

"I will," Harry snapped. "I'm just tired of this fucking wedding."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Well I am. I don't have any say in it. I'm working long hours, and Ginny's just at home, watching the telly or talking on the phone."

"What do you expect her to do, Harry? She's planning a wedding, its hard work."

"How do you know?"

"Well, it's one of the reasons why Ron and I haven't gotten married. I'm trying to finish my Healer training, and after that, I'll be free to plan, marry, and have children with him," she said happily. "But you, on the other hand, you're creating all these legendary brooms, and training the English Team, I mean…of course you're entitled to feel this way, I suppose." Hermione brought over two lavish plates of salad. She yanked the glass of firewhiskey from Harry's hands with a disapproving look, and instead placed in front of him a bottle of mineral water. She sat across from him. "But you have to remember that you love her."

"I care about her so much, Hermione. But this is driving me insane."

"I know Harry, but sometimes we have to bite down on what we don't like and just keep walking. I mean, sometimes I don't like how Ron does things. Sometimes I even hate him. But when I come back, and review the situation, I just realize how wrong I was, and that I love him very much."

Harry nodded, taking up his fork and stabbing the green leaves viciously. Hermione watched him with curious brown eyes, and moments later began to eat her own salad.

-----

"COACH POTTER!" shouted Ethel. He flew to the ground, watching as Harry made his way to through the fields, the weather dismal. "Coach Potter," he ran to meet Harry halfway and smiled widely at him. "We thought you weren't going to come, Assistant Coach Finnegan came in and had us warm up." Ethel stopped short when he saw the tried expression on Harry's face. "Are you all right, Coach?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am…just tired. Did you guys complete your rounds?"

"No, not yet, I saw you and came running to see if everything was okay."

Ethel was the English team Seeker. Harry used to picture himself in that same uniform several times, but after the war, he had promised himself that he would not be the "hero" anymore. He was going to give up this always-in-the-light fame and instead do something worthy. So he decided to purchase and coach the team.

"I'm okay Ethel, I just need you to go up there and gather the team so you guys can change into some work clothes and run some laps. The Healer is coming in today to test all your vital signs."

"Okay Coach, I'll come and see you in a bit." Ethel took off into the sky to gather his team. Harry turned around and saw that Seamus was coming his way.

"Harry, where the _fuck_ have you been?"

"What?"

"The team has been waiting here for nearly an hour, we had to start warm-ups without you!" he shouted over the distance. When he was finally in front of Harry, his clipboard clasped tightly in his hands, he scowled.

"Damn it Seamus, I had some affairs to take to," Harry said, walking pass Seamus to enter the English Team Sports building. He watched as the team members entered their locker rooms to change.

"Listen Harry, I've known you since we were kids, and I can tell when something is up your arse bugging ya. You just need to tell me, and I'll help you as much as I can. I can take the team over for awhile if you need the extra time off," Seamus said soothingly.

"Really Seamus?" Harry asked his eyes bright. He had not worn his glasses today, instead, opting for eyes contacts.

"Aye, Harry you work too hard. With the Model 3000 coming out, I mean, you have to go to the conference soon. That's a bazillion miles away…I don't see how you're able to sleep at all."

"It is a bit exhausting."

"And Ginny with the wedding…"

Harry sighed. He did not want to hear about the damned wedding anymore. "Yeah," he started, "that too."

"If you ever need to take some time off, _ever_, don't you mind it. You might need to spend some quality time at home. Even…even if you want to get _away_ from home…" Seamus dropped his voice, "you know, to get away from Ginny, I'll still back you up. You know Gin and I are good friends, I could check on her once in awhile with Ron or something." Harry smiled.

"Thanks Seamus, I'll keep it in mind, mate."

-----

_December 20, 2006_

"HARRY I MEAN, HOW CAN YOU SAY THIS?" Ginny roared, throwing up her hands. "THE WEDDING IS IN THREE MONTHS, HOW CAN YOU TELL ME THIS NOW?" she began to cry, walking around the room as Harry threw things into his suitcase.

"I won't be gone long Gin, I'm just going away for a _month_. It's just to clear my mind." He bit his lower lip, realizing that was the wrong thing to say to her. She shook.

"But," she sobbed, "but why can't you clear your mind _here?_ Why do you have to go all the way to _France?_"

"I would have had to go anyways; the company is launching my broom there. Next week, there's going to be a huge conference in Paris. So I should go and familiarize myself with the area now," Harry explained. Ginny sat on their bed, watching as Harry packed his clothes, her eyes wide and watchful. He stopped packing and looked up into Ginny's wild blue eyes.

"Gin—" he started, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her shaking body. She began sobbing again.

"Why can't I come _with_ you?" she wept.

"If you came with me, who would take care of the wedding plans?" he asked softly.

"We could go over it together in France…" she started. Harry shook his head.

"Gin, please. You have to be strong. This is more of a business trip than a vacation. I'm not trying to run away from you," Harry lied. "I just need to get some things in order; I'll be back after the New Year. Do you understand?" she nodded against his chest. For the first time in his life, Harry realized just how fragile Ginny was. He cradled her slender form to his chest, and realized that this trip could simply break her. "I love you, okay?" Harry asked, pulling away from her lightly.

"I love you too, Harry."

Harry moved away from her and continued packing, from time to time looking up to see Ginny still staring at him with glassy eyes.

_-----_

That evening he apparated internationally to France, his luggage in his hands and on his back. He looked around and realized that he was quite near Charles de Gaulle International airport. It was an area that wizards were allowed to apparate in completely unseen. He huffed as he heard the loud racket of the airplanes flying overhead. When he was able to haul down a cabbie, he finally relaxed since leaving Britain. His mind began to race.

He was a free man, in a country overflowing with romantic prospects. He did not have to worry about Ginny, because she was well taken care of by Hermione, Ron, Molly, and even Seamus. He would be able to relax, go to that stupid press release about the Model 3000. But for now, all he would have to worry about is just simply enjoying him self. The taxi cab stopped.

"Sir…um…sir…" Harry started. He had forgotten to tell the man where to go.

"C'est votre arrêt, monsieur, svp, salaire!" _This is your stop sir, please pay!_

"What?" Harry asked, not understanding a word the man said. The cabbie pointed to the meter. "Oh," Harry said. He pulled out freshly printed currency and gave the man his money.

"Au revoir," the cabbie mumbled, dumping Harry's luggage in the snow when they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"Hey!" Harry called out crossly. The man drove off, leaving Harry on a darkening street corner. He picked up both his suitcases, having tossed his traveler's bag onto his back once more. The street was scary, and very slippery. As the wind whipped Harry's face viciously, all he could see was a little shop on the corner, lit with light and a small amount of people lounging about with coffee mugs. He thought that maybe he would be able to get directions to the hotel.

He entered the cozy shop, surprised by the warmth and the heavenly smells wafting from behind the counter. There was merry conversations being exchanged in rapid French with a group of adults in one corner (occasionally they would laugh loudly), a rather old woman sat in the back reading a large book, her back facing a wide bookshelf, a couple of teenagers munched on cake, and then a tall middle-aged, yet handsomely well-groomed man stood behind the counter, wiping it down with a rag. He looked up at Harry.

"Bonjour monsieur, est-ce que je peux vous aider avec quelque chose?" _Hello sir, can I help you with anything?_

"I'm sorry, I can't speak French," Harry said, his face scrunching up in embarrassment and frustration.

"My dear boy, how _will_ you make it around without knowing anything?" Jacques asked jokingly. He laughed as he watched relief wash over Harry's face. "I assume that you are lost?"

"Very," Harry said. Dropping his bags, he stretched. "I would appreciate some direction."

"Well, where are you trying to go?"

Harry rummaged through his pockets to pull out a slip of paper. "Hôtel Ritz Paris," he read off the paper. He placed it on the counter.

"Ah, let me call you a cab and get you situated," Jacques said, turning around and picking up the phone. Harry heard the ringing of a bell and turned to see that a tall, extremely clothed man had walked in.

"Mon dieu! il gèle dehors!" _My God, it freezes outside!_ He shouted. Jacques turned around to see a well covered Draco standing beside the new stranger.

"Mon chéri," Jacques started. Harry had suddenly dropped his piece of paper and bent down to look for it amongst his luggage.

"_Shite!_" he hissed, looking on the floor. Draco had not seen nor heard him. He removed his scarf and beanie, showing his white-blond hair and his cold grey eyes, his cheeks a rosy red.

"You have a message, I sent it straight to your room, I believe it's from your mère," Jacques said. Draco smiled.

"Merci, Jacques. I'll go and check it now," Draco turned to leave but smiled down at the man searching for something on the floor. The man's arse was literally in the air. He gave Jacques an inquiring look, who simply shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk. Draco laughed. "I'll be back in a minute!" he said, running up the stairs, two at a time.

Harry sighed happily, finding his important slip of paper and turned to Jacques, completely oblivious to what had just happened.

"Monsieur, you will have your taxi soon," Jacques said. "You must be freezing, would you like some coffee, or cake?" Jacques motioned to the cake stand in front of him. But before Harry could answer, his cellular phone began to ring. He swore.

"Bullocks, I'm sorry…so sorry sir," Harry started, bending down and rummaging through his bags for his cell. It was then that Draco reappeared again, this time clad only in a black sweater with black jeans. He smiled at Jacques.

"I'm just getting something from the back," he said quickly, disappearing in the back room behind the counter. Harry retrieved his cell.

"Hello?"

"_Harry, it's me…Ron. Ginny told me what happened."_

"Ron, this is not the time."

"_Then when will be the time Harry! You left my baby sister in a mess!"_

"I thought she was completely okay about this!"

"_Why wouldn't you let her come with you on vacation, Harry?"_

"THIS IS A BUSINESS TRIP!" Harry shouted fiercely into the phone. "Ron, I'll call you later, okay. LATER!" he hung up on his best friend, and as he straightened up, he saw the small smile on the older man's face.

"I believe that is your taxi, monsieur," Jacques turned his head to peer out the store front.

"I can't say how much I thank you for your time." Harry pocketed his phone, and picked up his bags. Jacques walked him to the front entrance, opening the door for him and the taxi pulled up in front of the shop.

"You must come back to visit my little shop, it is so rare that we see such _beaux jeunes visages!" Beautiful young faces._ Harry smiled politely, not understanding the last bit.

"Err…that sounds fine. I would love to come back and visit. Another time though, thanks again," Harry said, watching as the cabbie exited his car and placed Harry's luggage in the trunk. Harry turned around and stuck out his hand, which Jacques took delicately.

"He knows where to take you, too."

"Thank you." Harry took back his hand.

"It was a pleasure," Jacques said gracefully, eyeing Harry up and down before he entered the taxi.

Harry was just shutting the door to the cab when Draco came from out of the shop with Jacques's coat. The wind whipped Draco's hair wildly around his face, as he turned his back against the cold burst of air coming up the street, the same direction that Harry's taxi was leaving. He held Jacques's coat out to him.

"Are you crazy? You'll catch your death out here," Draco said, watching as Jacques slipped his coat on. "What are you doing outside, and who was that you were helping into the taxi?" Draco asked, wrapping his arms around his own body for warmth.

"The young man you saw in the shop crotched over his bags. He was exquisitely beautiful. He had the most piercing green eyes I've ever seen in all my life," Jacques said breathlessly.

"Really?" Draco said, looking down the street where the taxi left. "Was he _amazingly_ handsome?"

"Oui!"

"I hope he comes back then, I would love to see the man who has caught the infamous _Jacques's _heart!" Draco said with a chuckle.

-----

**Next: **Harry's broom conference, an angry conversation with Ron, and…Paris. Oh. And Jacques of course.

**TEASER FOR CHAPTER FOUR:**

_Jacques smiled, "so tell me 'Arry, are you much in love with Paris?"_

"_I suppose you can say so, it's such a beautiful place." Harry turned to face him, his brilliant green eyes bright, his cheeks a rosy red, and his wild hair moving with the icy winds. He smiled. "It's like I never want to go home." _

"_Believe me 'Arry, Paris will grab you by the heart, and never let you go." Or someone, Jacques thought mischievously. _

* * *

**NOTES!!!**

(Read if you love me! **(-:** )

**AN: **another chapter done. Please leave your precious comments!! I LOVE LAUGHING! SOME OF YOU GUYS LEAVE THE FUNNIEST COMMENTS! I hope I didn't have any grammar mistakes in this chapter, I re-read it like, fifty times. Oi!

**MORE STUFF!:**

**-----QuincePaste, this is just for you, dollie!: **This is what I got:

_Plunge in me; it opened the bottom to me._

_Its voice like furrow to guide my steps_

_I tattooed his heart_

_Under my icy skin_

_I learned how to be born._

_It knocks in my head._

Although someone might leave me a comment telling me it means something else. (cowers in corner) I'm still learning folks; I'm really trying to catch on! Hehe.

**-----Skittlelove: you are adorable, your comment made me laugh!**

**-----RANDOM BUT IMPORTANT!!!: This story will be 16 chapters long! YUM!**

**Love you all! Don't be a SHREW, PLEASE REVIEW!!! haha.**


	4. Chapitre Quatre

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain._

**AN: **Thank you for the corrections. Please understand that they help me, not hurt my feelings! Aw, but thank you for taking my feelings into consideration. Love you all, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's slightly shorter than my others. They're usually well over three thousand words, but this one is about twenty-five hundred words. Lame, I know. But still amazingly yummy.

**-----

* * *

**

**Chapitre Quatre**

_December 24, 2006_

"Monsieur Potter!" shouted a tiny reporter. She was professionally dressed, and had a small tape recorder clenched her hands. She held it up to Harry's face as he made his way into the conference room. She was the only reporter who had squeezed her way into the room, and none of Harry's bodyguards had the heart to push the tiny woman aside. Harry stopped in front of her, staring down at her. She straightened herself up, tossing a lock of dark brown hair over her shoulder as she gave him a confident smile. "All of the Wizarding World wants to know _how_, Monsieur Potter…_how_ did you accomplish such an amazing broom?" Her French accent curled around her words so much Harry could barely understand her.

"Err…" Harry started. "I just spent time on it, I suppose," Harry said with a small smile. "I put my heart into it, and out came that result."

"But you do know that this broom has been one of the most…_anticipated_ brooms since the creation of the FireboltTM? Each broom will be nearly 1000 galleons Monsieur Potter. Are you aware of that?" she asked.

"I don't know why it's that expensive," Harry said, growing cross. "I told my agent to make it 10 galleons!"

"_Monsieur Potter!_" She gasped. "Surely you jest, do you not? The broom is a masterpiece!" she cried.

"I kid you not," Harry said. "I just want this broom to be fun, for the kids, you know what I mean?" Harry asked. She shook her head in the negative.

"I do not monsieur, but surely you understand why? You are a legend amongst…so many people. You're a Hero; you're the Coach of the World's best Quidditch team, and now an infamous broom maker." Harry took a step away from the tiny woman, she was pissing him off.

"That's not what I want to be!" he shouted. She smiled.

"But it is what you _are."_

"No more questions," Harry said, pushing her recorder out the way. It was then Harry's bodyguards blocked the woman from entering.

"You don't know Monsieur Potter! There are people who would throw themselves at your feet, just to touch you!" she cried. Harry cringed. This was not going to be a good day.

-----

"Mr. Potter will answer questions _only_ concerning the broom, the launching of the broom, and nothing else. That means nothing about the English team, his wellbeing, or his personal life. The first person to do this will be physically removed from the conference, and the second person who does this, will spend the night in Azkaban, am I understood?" shouted Harry's agent. Ralph Norris was a porky man, with beady eyes. Harry didn't like him at all, he reminded him of Vernon. But nonetheless, Seamus had told him that he was the most trustworthy and honest agent known to the Wizarding world. "Now let's get this started. Mr. Potter is a very busy man."

At once there was shouting, screaming and loud swearing. Harry saw that reporters from all over the world had come to ask him questions. Ralph cleared his throat. "YOU—in the blue suit with the horrible tie!"

A young man stumbled forward. "Yes, Mr. Potter, could you please tell us what the key ingredient the broom was made out of?"

Harry swallowed. "The most important ingredient in the broom is actually a piece, _a very small piece_, of my own magic." The mass of bodies began to murmur excitedly at Harry's comment.

"NEXT—LADY IN THE PINK!"

"Mr. Potter, could you please elaborate on how you have a piece of magic in each broom?"

"Well, you see, in the core of each broom, is a small crystal invisible to the eye. It's a piece of my own magic captured in that crystal. Instead of me creating billions of these crystals, which would obviously lead to the weakening of my power, I just made a duplicating charm and I was able to create a billion or so.

"But—" the woman started. Ralph stood up.

"NO MORE—NEXT—YOU, WITH THE BROOM TIE!"

"Yes, thank you. Mr. Potter, will this broom be used among your English Team?" the man said with a slight grin. The question was about the broom, but also about the team. Ralph cleared his throat.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" he shouted. Immediately a group of bodyguards came and grabbed the reporter roughly around the neck, dragging the poor man out. Harry began to feel extremely lightheaded. The lights from the cameras were making him sweat, and were blinding him.

"YOU WITH THE GREEN HAT!"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I believe Americans would like to know when you will be allowing your Model 3000 to be sold in the USA."

"It should be hitting overseas in a few months after its release here." The questions were peaceful and easy for Harry to answer for awhile. He didn't like the clicking noise of cameras, the murmurs of the reporters, or the heavy breathing of Ralph's infuriating form. Harry just wanted to sleep, if anything. He felt so hollow inside that he felt as if he was drowning in this sea of reporters.

"MS SKEETER!" Ralph shouted. Harry shook from his trance and glared at his old enemy. _How the fuck did this hag get in here?_ He thought angrily. She was wearing a shocking green robe, her hair done up in tight curls falling about her angular face. Harry had to hold back upcoming vomit.

"Yes," she started in a silky voice. "Harry, I believe the Wizarding World would love to know what brought on this inspiration for the broom. Was it love for Quidditch? Is it a way to cope with the abandonment felt after defeating You-Know-Who? Is it because of your obsession with fame? Or—" she was cut off. Before Ralph could say a biting word to her, Harry had stood to his feet.

"You ugly, two-bit cow!" he snarled. "Voldemort has nothing to do with this broom." Many people gasped. "This has nothing to do with my forsaken fucking fame, and you're just a horrible bitch who needs to go back to Journalism school to actually pick up appropriate journalistic skills. This fucking conference is over." Despite the gasps and appalled looks, Harry exited the conference room at the side door.

He wanted to go back to his hotel room and bury himself under the comfortable and rich sheets. The day had been a complete disaster.

"It can't get worse than this," Harry started, sitting in the hall outside the conference room. He was free from the press for a while. His cell rang.

"Hello?" he said into the phone.

"_Harry, it's me, Hermione, I was just calling to see how things are in France."_

"It's quite okay. I just ran into Rita Skeeter, believe it or not, she was as horrifying as ever. I almost killed her."

"_I'm so sorry to hear that Harry. Actually, there's something I need to—"_ she was cut off. _"RON! GET OFF! NO! GIVE ME THE FUCKING—"_

"_HARRY! YOU NEED TO COME BACK NOW!"_ Ron was on the phone, having seemingly wrestled it from Hermione's grasp.

"Ron," Harry warned. He was so, so very tired of this.

"_MY BABY SISTER IS SICK TO DEATH BECAUSE SHE NEEDS YOU HARRY! How can you do this to her?"_

"Ron—"

"_JUST SHUT UP FOR ONCE HARRY! MY SISTER MISSES YOU, OKAY!?"_

"_GIVE ME THE PHONE BACK!"_ Hermione shouted in the background. Harry hung his head in complete frustration, his temples throbbing from an oncoming headache.

"_It's simple Harry. Unless you want my sister to die from heartbreak, you _have_ to come back."_

"No."

"_WHAT?"_

"I said no Ron. This is my job; this is a responsibility I've taken up. Ginny knows this and I don't know why she insists on causing so much drama. I'll be home in three weeks!" Harry cried.

"_ACCIO—"_

The phone line went dead.

Harry was a strong individual. Or at least he liked to believe so. He had never truly cried over whimsical things, but he felt that this quirky situation had finally gotten to him. He was bawling into his hands when the reporters finally showed up, seemingly out of thin air, cameras clicking, questions flying, and a horrible stunning spell from Harry tipping the reporters forward into darkness.

-----

Harry found himself being smuggled into an alley by a chauffer hired by Ralph. He had gotten a particular scolding from the beefy man for stunning everyone in the hallway. They were still in need of being awaken, but Ralph had promised him that the unconscious reporters would be tended to in time.

"FUCK!" he shouted in the back of the limousine. He had allowed for them to get to him, along with the tricks Ron was trying to pull over him. Harry would not fall into guilt anymore so easily.

The chauffer was just passing a gorgeous park, when Harry saw the campus.

"Driver, please let me off here."

"But Mr. Potter, Mr. Norris gave me direct orders to take you back to your hotel."

"I don't care what he said. Let me out now," Harry barked. The man slowed down, exiting out of the traffic to park near the campus. "Thank you sir," Harry said sweetly, stepping out of the car. If he needed to get back to his hotel, he'd find a taxi. He walked away from the limousine, looking about at the circular campus and all of its wonders.

-----

He walked around the university a few times, taken by the beautiful architectural genius behind it. The lake was frozen, and it reminded him of how the Great Lake at Hogwarts used to freeze over, and how students used to skate over it. His last year at Hogwarts had been a hard one. Quidditch was cancelled, people were dying, and he was barely in school. He had missed so much, and in the end, gained so little back.

"Monsieur, êtes-tu bien?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, spinning around. There standing behind Harry was the nice man from the shop. "Oh! Sir!"

"Bonjour again, young man," Jacques said. "Do you come here often, to the campus? Is this your new school?" Harry smiled courteously.

"No, this is not my school, and actually, this is the first time I've been here."

"So you are a wizard?" Jacques asked. Harry's brows shot up.

"How do you know that?"

"Only wizards and witches can see this school, monsieur. It is a Magical school."

"Oh…"

"My son goes here," Jacques said proudly. He loved calling Draco his son; he had raised the boy for nearly five years now.

"Lovely," Harry said politely.

"How silly of me, I never truly introduced myself." Jacques smiled brilliantly, watching as the winter wind whipped about Harry's wild, shaggy black hair. The scar that usually distinguished Harry's fame could hardly be seen under his hair. The older man stuck out his hand. "I'm Jacques." Harry shook it.

"Harry," he responded, his eyes filling with tears from the sudden burst of air. It stung his face viciously.

The two hit it off immediately. Jacques couldn't help but let his eyes wander over Harry's beautiful face. The boy was simply to die for. They walked about the campus for a bit, Jacques playing the tour guide for Harry. When they had found themselves at a little park outside the campus, sitting together on a bench, Harry sighed happily, looking about at the young children playing in the snow, and the Eiffel Tower gleaming in the far distance. He was truly in love with Paris.

Jacques beamed, "so tell me 'Arry, are you much in love with Paris?" He asked, almost as I he could read Harry's mind.

"I suppose you can say so, it's such a gorgeous place." Harry turned to face him, his brilliant green eyes bright, his cheeks a rosy red, and his wild hair moving with the icy wind. He smiled. "It's like I never want to go home."

"Believe me 'Arry, Paris will grab you by the heart, and never let you go." _Or someone_, Jacques thought mischievously. Harry laughed bitterly.

"I don't think my fiancé would like that very much." Jacques's eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, you have a little woman?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"I've known her since I was…eleven. She's my best mate's baby sister. I proposed to her after the war, so we've been engaged for…well, it's been about five years." Jacques nodded. He had thought that Harry was into men. He usually pegged them right.

"You do like this marriage, oui?"

"I do…it's just…" Harry trailed off. He couldn't believe that he was talking about his future marriage to some man he hardly knew. But he felt so unnaturally comfortable around Jacques, as if he'd known him for years. Usually Harry had a hard time trusting the people around him so quickly. "I feel different. Or maybe, I've always felt this way…" Jacques could tell that the boy had some conflicting problems. "I wake up every morning, believing that something…something _new_ will wake up beside me. I…I feel so _wrong_ feeling like this! I love her, but…"

"It is quite okay 'Arry. This is not a good subject for you, so we shall not talk of it." Harry relaxed.

"Thanks."

"But I must be going, I have a shop to run, and my replacement is only 22! He's wise for his age, but he needs to relax from working so much." Jacques looked at Harry. "Maybe you can come by my shop?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not today, I have so much work to do," Harry said. He was sincere, and truly wanted some of that great smelling cake he had seen a few days ago. "But I would love to come tomorrow, if you would have me."

"Of course! You must come by."

"I will. I remember where it's at, too."

"Good…well, au revoir 'Arry, until tomorrow!" Jacques said, turning around and walking away. Harry waved.

"Good bye Jacques, see you tomorrow! Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" Jacques shouted back, a chuckle emitting from his soft lips.

-----

**TEASER FOR CHAPTER FIVE:**

_His phone began to ring. Pulling it out of his jean pocket, the ID read: Ginny. He grinned as he pressed the phone against his ear. "Ginny, hey…did you get your gift?"_

"_Oh Harry, it's so beautiful! It must have cost you your left arm," she cried. Harry laughed. _

"_Anything for my sweetheart," Harry said. He was just reaching for the door to the Jacques's shop, when he was bumped sideways. "Oomph!" Harry fell . "Fuck!" he cried, the phone closed up underneath him, and he looked up to see who the hell had pushed him over._

**TIDBITS:**

Love you all for reading this. Again, don't be a SHREW, please, please, please REVIEW!


	5. Chapitre Cinq

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain._

**AN: **Thank you for the reviews.

**WARNING:** Some mild angst in this chapter. I promise it will not be like this in upcoming chapters…this story is supposed to be romance. I don't want to sway away from that. But a little angst never really hurt anybody! Thank you! And enjoy the read!

**-----**

_I don't want a lot for Christmas  
There's just one thing I need  
I don't care about the presents  
Underneath the Christmas tree  
I just want you for my own  
More than you could ever know  
Make my wish come true  
All I want for Christmas is...  
You_

* * *

**Chapitre Cinq**

_December 24, 2006_

"Oh, Jacques, I don't know what to say…"

"Just say you'll take it mon fils, it is a lovely gift, n'est-ce pas?" Jacques whispered. He held out a beautiful painting for Draco, one of Jacques's most famous ones that he had kept from his younger years as an artist. He was very famous then and now he was retired from those famous days.

"Jacques…this is surely priceless. I don't know…"

"But you should, mon fils, you should. It is precious to you; _I_ am precious to you, as you are to me. I want you to have it. Joyeux Noël, Draco!" Jacques gave Draco a bone crushing hug, with a little peck on the cheek. "Are you going to see your mama tomorrow all day?" Jacques asked, picking up the scraps of wrapping paper. He had given Draco his gift early, knowing that he was going to visit his family on Christmas.

"I don't think I'll be there all day. My mum and Godfather are traveling to Bombay later tomorrow. I'm just going to go see them off." Draco sat behind the counter, glancing out the window absentmindedly. "Actually, they want to tell me something extremely important. I hope they're not moving there." Draco turned his attention back to Jacques. "Are you okay?"

Jacques was also staring out into the street, his face wishful. "I would like to go for a walk."

"Then go Jacques, there's no one here, and I would love to watch the shop for you," Draco said kindly, the surprise evident in his voice. Jacques smiled.

"Merci. I could do with some air." Jacques stood, going behind the counter to retrieve this coat. "I won't take long. I'm just…tired mon chéri. Maybe I'll walk around the campus. It is so beautiful around this time."

"Oui, no problem Jacques, take your time."

_-----_

_December 25, 2006—Christmas Day_

"DRACO!" Narcissa Abigail Snape came running down the grand stairs of Malfoy Manor, her curly blond hair flowing down her back. She never wore it straight anymore, like she did when she was married to Lucius. She was wearing a cotton white dress that stopped just above her knees, and she was wearing a shell necklace around her neck. Her skin was tanned, having just come back from a weekend in Jamaica. Draco loved his mother like this. When she was married to Lucius, they never went anywhere; she was never allowed to talk unless spoken to. She was dead during that marriage. But it all changed after the war, and she married Severus.

"Mum," Draco smiled as she threw her arms around his neck. She was incredibly tall, like a model, falling short just a few inches from Draco's height. She kissed him soundly on the cheek, practically glowing. "Merry Christmas…but how you're dress, you'd think it was summer." She laughed.

"Darling, Severus and I are going to _Bombay!_ I have to dress like this, the weather there is hot." She giggled. Severus was coming down the stairs, wearing khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Draco raised a brow, having never seen Snape dressed so…tropical.

"Draco, welcome home." Severus said, coming to stand next to his wife. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She giggled nervously. "Should we take this to the sitting room? Missy will bring us tea." They entered the sitting room together, Draco sitting across from the two older adults. When his mother sat down, he realized something he hadn't seen earlier while she was standing.

There was a little bump poking from her stomach.

His mother _never_ had a stomach, a tummy, let alone _fat_ on her.

"What's going on?" Draco asked, watching as Narcissa nervously played with the hem of her dress. She brought her silvery blue eyes up to Draco's.

"There is something we wanted to tell you," she stopped as Missy entered the room, a silver tray in her small hands. She was wearing a little pink shirt and a pair of blue pants.

"Why is Missy wearing clothes?" Draco asked suddenly. The elf turned and curtsied.

"I is be wearing these clothes because I is free, Master Malfoy."

"You're free?"

"Yes, Master Snape granted me freedom, and I is being paid three galleons a week to work for your family." Draco turned to his mother, surprise written on his face. When he was living at the Manor, this type of behavior was forbidden. The elves were treated as slaves, and the rule was to treat them harshly, although he thought it to be ridiculously cruel. His mother smiled at Missy and thanked the elf as she left.

"Times are a changing my son…right Severus?"

"Right," he agreed. They exchanged a secret-looking smile. Draco sighed impatiently.

"Well, tell me what's wrong! You are in good health, are you not?" Draco asked nervously. He wouldn't know what to do if he found out his precious mother was sick.

"Don't worry darling, I'm only sick in the mornings," she said sweetly. "I'm pregnant dear!" she clapped her hands and laughed. Draco paled.

"You're _what?_"

"She's pregnant…what do you youngsters call it, 'knocked up'?" Severus muttered with a smirk. Draco cringed.

"But…you're…too old!"

"DRACO!" his mother shouted. "I AM ONLY 45!" she cried. "I'm still young!"

"How far along are you?"

"Oh, about two months, I just found out actually. In the beginning, I thought I was going through menopause, so I went to go see a Healer, and she told me I was pregnant!" she exclaimed. "Still young and vibrant I suppose. It's going to be a girl. You're going to have a baby sister!" Draco sat back in his chair, having offered himself a cup of tea, and sipped it carefully as he watched his mother and her new husband watch _him_ expectantly. Draco cracked a smile.

"I guess I can't always remain the favorite, right?" Draco asked jokingly. "So I'm having a baby sister…do you guys have names yet?"

Severus spoke up, "we want to wait until the birth of the child, to make it more spontaneous."

"Lovely." Draco said, suddenly wishing he had a cup of Jacques's freshly brewed coffee, than the awful tasting tea. He was missing France already.

-----

He left the Manor in a somewhat good mood. He had come to terms with his mother's pregnancy, giving her a tight hug before leaving, and patting her gently on the _stomach_. She had given him several parcels for him to bring back to France, being his Christmas gifts.

"We'll bring you back pretty things from Bombay," she had whispered in his ear girlishly. He couldn't help but grin.

Severus asked Draco how Dorian was, and Draco didn't have the spirit to tell them that he and Dorian were no longer an item. He shrugged his shoulders and told them that he was in good health. His mother had tried to convince Draco to go to Diagon Alley, to visit the Wizarding World, but he declined. It's been five years. He couldn't.

Now coming back to France, several parcels packed away into a nice backpack his mother had given him. It was made out of thick, red and gold thread from Jamaica. As he had apparated back to France, and found himself walking towards the shop, he realized that the weather was a lot nicer than yesterday, so he took off his beanie and slipped it into his pocket. His wild blond hair was in need of a trim, it was starting to tickle the base of his neck. He ran a hand through the soft locks, enjoying the breeze. He yawned when his cell phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket. Opening the phone, the ID read: Matthew. He smiled and flipped the phone open.

"Bonjour Matthew," Draco said in a sweet voice. He was just half a block from the shop now.

-----

Harry had been having a lovely morning. He sent a beautiful diamond necklace through owl for Ginny, hoping it would raise her spirits. He also sent an apology letter to Ron and Hermione, concerning his behavior, especially after the article Rita Skeeter had put out in the Prophet concerning his wild temper problems. He thought maybe he was too angry. The rest of the day, he had spent in a small bookstore around the corner; he bought an English-French dictionary. He had several gifts to go through back at the hotel, but decided it could wait until later. He had promised Jacques that he would stop by the shop to have a piece of cake and talk to him, and he couldn't help but feel nervous about their upcoming rendezvous. He really liked Jacques, feeling that the older man knew him on a deeper level than he let on.

He dressed quickly, throwing on a Weasley sweater, a deep green knit sweater with a large "H" on it. He then put on black jeans and black trainers. Just to be festive, he had bought a Santa hat. He slipped it on, hoping it would give Jacques a laugh.

Leaving the hotel, he decided that he would walk all the way to the shop, having gotten used to the area. He knew it was a long walk, about half an hour, but he didn't mind. He was able to watch the passing couples, the shoppers, the young children. He loved Paris. He took note of the pleasant winds that were coming through. It was gentle, and not at all freezing.

His phone began to ring. Pulling it out of his jean pocket, the ID read: Ginny. He grinned as he pressed the phone against his ear. "Ginny, hey…did you get your gift?"

"Oh Harry, it's so beautiful! It must have cost you your left arm," she cried. Harry laughed.

"Anything for my darling," Harry said. He was just reaching for the door to the Jacques's shop, when he was bumped sideways. "Oomph!" Harry fell sideways. "Fuck!" he cried, the phone closed up underneath him, and he looked up to see who the hell had pushed him over.

-----

"Matthew, I'll call you back later." Draco closed his phone and quickly turned to the person he had accidentally pushed over. "Je suis désolé!" Draco cried, reaching out to offer a hand to the fallen man. Harry's Santa hat had fallen off, revealing his jet black hair, and most of all, his scar.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"POTTER?"

-----

Jacques was tending to a customer when he saw Draco walking pass the large window of the shop. The boy was completely engrossed on the phone, and had not seen the other man coming from the opposite direction. They had collided, sending the dark haired man flying. Jacques realized that Draco had pushed over Harry. Draco offered his hand, and then the two men seemingly started to argue. When he finished with the customer, he ran to the door and threw it open, seeing that Draco had swung his fist towards Harry's face.

"Draco, what the hell are you doing?" Jacques asked, livid. Draco was incredibly red in the face, and Harry was leaning against the window of the store, holding his nose.

"Why don't you ask _him?"_ Draco snarled. Jacques looked taken aback; he had never seen Draco in such a manner.

"Control yourself, Draco! 'Arry, what has happened?"

"Wait…you know him?" Draco asked, looking between Harry and Jacques. Harry removed his hands, exposing a trickle of blood running down his chin from his nose.

"You know Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"I am confused…you two know each other?" Jacques asked.

"Jacques…" Draco started, but Harry cut him off.

"This bastard pushed me!"

"IT WAS A MISTAKE!" Draco roared. "You didn't hear what _he_ said to _me_, Jacques. As soon as he realized who I was, he pulled away. He then said, 'so this is where the Death Eaters came after the war.'" Jacques turned his shocked eyes to Harry, who found it necessary to look guiltily at the snow covered ground. "Mon chéri, veuillez aller à l'intérieur," Jacques said quietly to Draco. _My darling, please go inside._ Draco nodded and entered the shop.

"'Arry?"

"I'm sorry Jacques…I didn't know you two were…friends."

"I did not know you two knew each other. Please, come inside and have some coffee…" An awkward silence filled the air. Until Harry mumbled nearly inaudibly,

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Nonsense, you must...at least to clean your face, you're bleeding," Jacques opened the door for Harry, who saw Draco standing behind the counter, talking cheerfully to a petite brunette woman with a baby on her hip. He pulled out a cookie from the cookie stand, to give to the little child and laughed.

"Merci," the lady said, laughing, going back to her seat. He then turned his attention to Harry and Jacques, who were walking towards him together. Jacques had wrapped a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders, and it was then that Draco felt a fiery feeling, also known as jealousy, rip through his chest. He scowled. Harry went into the washroom, Jacques leaving him at the door. He then walked over to the darkening Draco.

"What is wrong with you Draco? Since when have you been so rude?"

"Jacques, I—"

Harry had come from the bathroom, having repaired himself via magic, and hesitantly walked over to the counter to stand beside Jacques. Draco growled.

"Shouldn't you be saving the world or something, Scarhead?" Draco spat. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Shouldn't you be rounding up Death Eaters, if your no-good father was still alive, he probably would have, but _I _saw to _that!"_

"Fuck you Potter!"

"Or maybe your mum is, eh? If she's not careful, she'll end up just like your dirty Father." Draco gasped, feeling tears push up into his eyes at what Potter had said. He didn't show it through his façade, which was hard to do now more than ever.

"You FUCKING BASTARD!" Draco roared, slamming his hand down onto the counter. "YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME! I'M NOTHING LIKE MY FATHER, AND HOW _DARE_ YOU SPEAK ABOUT MY MOTHER IN THAT WAY!"

Harry smirked. "Sod off, Malfoy."

"Why don't you _make me?_" Draco hissed. "I mean, what the hell are you even doing in France? The last I heard of, you were off marrying the Weasel. What? She left you or something?" Draco asked nastily. "She was always known as a _whore._ Even _I_ could have had a go at her!_"_ Jacques gasped and Harry turned red.

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" he shouted, jumping over the counter and yanking Draco's sweater.

"OR WHAT POTTER?" Draco barked back in Harry's reddening face. Harry pulled back his fist. He was aware that the shop had gone completely quiet.

"I'LL BEAT YOU TO A BLOODY PULP, THAT'S WHAT YOU BLOODY DEATH EATER!"

"FUCK YOU!"

Harry pulled back his fist and punched Draco squarely in the face, making the blond fall back. Harry had taken advantage of this, and was about to go around the counter to hit Draco again, when Draco quickly and unnaturally stumbled onto his feet and leaped over the counter, tackling Harry to the floor. It was then that many of the customers were shouting in fear and outrage, grabbing his or her stuff and running from out the shop. Draco was on top of Harry now, throwing wild punches. Any anger or hate he had for the ex-Gryffindor came out into the tips of his knuckles.

"STOP!" Jacques shouted, pulling Draco off of Harry.

"FUCKING MONSTER!" Draco shouted. "You no good Gryffindor, you and your _fucking_ pride. Don't you understand Potter? You ruined _everyone's_ life!"

"I'm more than happy to have ruined _yours_ Malfoy," Harry said snidely, standing from off the floor. Jacques had wrapped his arms around Draco, who was facing away from Harry. His shoulders hunched forward, and he released an anguished cry. Jacques was whispering to him. He nodded, and suddenly took off to his apartment upstairs. Harry stood, awkwardly standing in front of Jacques.

"I'm so—" Harry started, but Jacques shook his head, lifting up a hand to stop Harry from speaking.

"Please, no more 'Arry. You have hurt him. I do not know…this…this…_past history_ you have with him, but it is an embarrassment, do you understand? I do not condone this type of behavior, and see; I have lost all my customers because of it." Jacques pointedly looked around the empty shop. Harry frowned, again looking down at the ground with guilt. Jacques continued. "But I forgive you, 'Arry, for boys will be boys, but will soon have to become men." Harry nodded.

"I'm so sorry Jacques," Harry said sincerely. He really liked Jacques, and didn't want Jacques to dislike him. "What can I do to make it up to you?" Harry took a step forward, eager. Jacques gave him a weary smile.

"Well, I must talk to Draco. He's in a rut and I have to pull him out of it. But please, maybe tomorrow you can come back, and you two will be able to apologize. I insist upon it. Then we will have coffee. But for now, I must close the shop to talk to my Draco," he said softly, his eyes trailing up to the staircase Draco had ran up. Harry scowled.

"What is he doing here anyways?" Harry asked, crossing his arms. Jacques took in this boyish attitude, his lips curling downward into a distasteful frown.

"This is his home. He's been living and going to school here for five years…my Draco is no Death Eater. Whatever he was to you five years ago is not him now. When I met him, he was a shell, a ticking _bomb_," Jacques said softly. "I took care of him. He was so small, so thin…he has come a long way, 'Arry. He has been through happiness and heartbreak, love and hate…I do not want my Draco to fall back into his despair." Jacques took a step back from Harry, who was fuming quietly in his guilt. The older man smiled knowingly, clapping Harry down on one of his shoulders. "It will be okay. Just come back tomorrow? Please? You should be here when my shop is full, the laughter is merry and the coffee is great…"

Harry nodded. He was berating himself on the inside for having such a vicious, childish presence take over him when he had seen Draco. To be honest, even when Draco had seen that it was Harry he had knocked over, he still offered his hand to him. The act had strangely reminded him of the very first time they met and Draco had asked for his friendship. Even now, he felt that by shaking that hand, it would be his ultimate destruction. After that, he had tossed an insult into Draco's face. Harry sighed. He really had to work on his anger management. "I'll come by tomorrow Jacques. I'm so sorry about my behavior today; I don't know what came over me…"

"Please, say no more 'Arry." Jacques led Harry to the door. "I will see you tomorrow, possibly around the same time, oui?" Harry nodded. "Good…au revoir…and Merry Christmas!"

When Harry had disappeared from the block, Jacques quietly locked the café's door and flipped over his open sign to show that the store was now closed. Clicking off the downstairs light, Jacques made his way to Draco's apartment, finding the door slightly ajar. He found Draco balled up onto his sofa, his body trembling.

"Draco," Jacques started. He had seen him like this before. Well over four years ago when Draco had been new to France, when he had been new to his feelings. He still had feelings of lost for his long-gone Father, and was afraid that maybe he too was becoming heartless and cruel. Jacques knew that all the things Harry had managed to say in less than five minutes could have possibly destroyed what Draco had been working on forgiving and forgetting for years. "Draco, listen to me…"

"What?" Draco sobbed sadly. "What could you possibly tell me, Jacques? I am a…a…childish _connard_!"

"Draco…" Jacques started softly, but he was cut off.

"—Five years…five years and a bit of Britain…no…_the soul_ of Wizarding Britain comes back into my life, full-force and bitching!" Draco had unfolded himself on the couch, pushing himself into a stiff sitting position, and devoured Jacques with glistening gray eyes. "I am heartless…even Dorian said so."

"You're not…"

"POTTER!" Draco spat, his temper rising. "That _freak!_"

"Draco…" Jacques warned, but was once again interrupted.

"I never thought I'd see him again…we hated each other as children. During the war, I had traded sides…became a puppet for the Order…I had to watch my own Father die."

"It's all in the past Draco," Jacques said quickly, jumping for the opportunity to talk. He smoothly walked over and sat beside Draco, wrapping his arm around the trembling young man. He hugged him. "You're so strong now Draco, _strong_, mature, and you have definitely paid your debts to society. It is now time that you forget the squabble, and continue on with your life. Do not let this petty argument drive you away from a path you were set on." Draco sniffed sadly, wiping away tears that had slid down his cheeks.

"I feel like a child," Draco said sadly, a small teasing smile gracing his lips. Jacques squeezed him and placed a feathery kiss onto his temple.

"_My_ child," Jacques replied softly.

-----

While walking back to the hotel, Harry couldn't help but remember that agonizing look of complete and utter shock that had flashed in Malfoy's eyes when he had seen it was Harry he had pushed over. The feeling made Harry feel awkward. It sliced through him and left a burning trail. If Harry did not know any better, he would have assumed the look was purely animalistic and sexual. But he dismissed it for anger, knowing that the very notion was not only disturbing but disgusting. Harry scowled, remembering that he had accidentally hung up on Ginny, who did not call back. He knew it would be another apology he would have to create to maintain peace with Ginny. He would go back to the hotel, call her and apologize, finish unwrapping his gifts, and get some well-needed sleep. Tomorrow, he would visit Jacques and apologize to Malfoy.

He felt like his life had become just some huge mistake, one he had to keep apologizing for.

-----

* * *

_**TEASER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER….**_

"_So," Draco started, eyeing Harry with discreet curiosity. "Would you like to go out sometime? Get an aperitif? I know some great bars…"_

* * *

YAY!

They Met, They Fought, They Regret. What did you expect, some wild smutty boy-on-boy action? (that's actually chapter seven!) Ha-ha, no…Right? You didn't…right??? Oh Em Gee!

I will have to warn you that the next chapter will be incredibly short. No more than 2500 words. It's just one of those chapters that you need to link the story and such. I'm sorry! But please review. The comments keep me encouraged, and believe it or not your constructive criticism helps me write this story better! I hope there were no errors in this story, I read it several times. But if there are, I'm so sorry! I'll try harder next time. Right now I'm pooped!

**The story will heat up. I be promisin'!**


	6. Chapitre Six

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain.

* * *

_

**AN: LET'S HAVE A CONTEST, SHALL WE?**

Now, I don't like the summary of my story. Eek! I think it's too…simple? Doesn't really "grab" people's attentions when they're filtering through does it? You just saw it and had mercy on me…right? Ha! Okay. So if someone can summarize this story (or the summary above), in THE BEST fashion, I will use it, and in every chapter I post from here on, I will mention you and dedicate the chapter to you forevvveerrr. I'll open it up for anyone, even if you post under anonymous. Maybe you want a pseudonym? You can do that too!

Anyways, I hope this contest will be fun for ya'll, a little interaction. Also, I'll be "editing" my yahoo group soon. I like this story so much; I think I'll put up a folder for it. Maybe some folks can draw and such. I can draw; put some lovely images up for ya'll. I'm so excited! The yahoo group should be up and running this weekend…hopefully, if I'm not swamped with homework…it _is_ my senior year and such. I love you all! And please, take time out and do the contest!

Love you,

Mlle. P

* * *

**-----**

**Chapitre Six **

Paris was finally closing down for the night. Shades were being drawn, lights in stores and boutiques were being turned off, the streets were bare of lovely Parisians, and the winds had kicked up incredibly, a swirl of snow ever so often rising from the ground. However, Jacques's shop was still open and alive with customers, chattering away about this or that. Draco sat happily in his usual corner, sipping from his mug of strong, freshly brewed coffee. He had his Potions book open, not fearing if a muggle saw it or not. If ever asked about it, Draco would laugh embarrassedly, and say it was a quirky cookbook. He was definitely behind in his Yule break homework. He had yet to finish his senior year Potion, one of his very own creations. He vaguely heard the ringing of the bell above the door, signaling that someone had entered the shop.

"Oh! Welcome 'Arry!" he heard Jacques cry happily. Draco's head snapped up to see Harry standing in front of the counter. He had shopping bags in his cold, red hands. Harry laughed.

"_Bonjour_, Jacques," Harry said happily, being able to pronounce the word correctly. "I was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by." Draco snorted at the overly cheerful, yet sincere attitude of Harry Potter.

"Well, by all means, please have a seat. I will bring you over some cake, oui?"

"Yes, that would be lovely, and some coffee? Please?" Harry asked shyly, his cheeks tingling with a red color. Jacques smiled.

"Of course darling, please sit…Oh…Draco is in the corner, watching…in case you did not notice," Jacques said with an encouraging smile. He realized that Draco had been watching their conversation like a hawk since Harry entered. Harry turned to see Draco half hidden in the back of the shop, a book open in front of him, his lips upturned into a sneer. Harry smiled. "Maybe you should sit with him?" Harry nodded and went to sit across from Draco, placing his bags beside his chair before sitting.

"Potter," Draco said in greeting.

"Malfoy."

There was silence between the two. Draco spoke first. "Went shopping?"

"Yes, I did…it was quite fun, actually."

"Did you happen to by a pair of gloves? Your hands are practically frozen," Draco drawled. Harry shrugged.

"I didn't even notice."

"Yeah…I bet you didn't," Draco said carelessly, staring down at his book, but not really reading it.

"Malfoy—"

"—just forget it. It's over, we were both being pricks," Draco interrupted, holding a hand up, his eyes never left the book. He was trying his hardest not to look into the patronizing eyes of a one Harry Potter. He could hear the other man's huff of anger, and a scraping of the chair against the floor as he pushed his chair back to stand. He stopped however, when Jacques came over balancing a large piece of chocolate cake and an even larger mug of coffee.

"You look like you drink your coffee with _three_ cubes of sugar, 'Arry."

"I do actually," Harry said, sinking back down into his chair. Jacques happily placed the items before Harry with a fond look before walking away. Harry picked up his fork and began eating the cake. Draco rolled his eyes when a surprised and excited moan escaped Harry's mouth.

"This is fabulous!" Harry cried. Draco grunted. When the other man gathered his wits, he gave Draco a long, judgmental look. "So you really have changed?" Harry asked. Draco finally met Harry's eyes.

"What?"

"You've changed. I mean, here you are living in France, studying what appears to be Potions. You have a loving man looking over you, and you look absolutely nothing like yourself from when we were kids," Harry said, taking a long sip from his coffee. Draco's eyes hardened as he watched Harry carefully dissect his outward appearance.

"What do you mean I look nothing like myself?"

Harry gave Draco a small smile. "Well, first of all you're wearing muggle clothes. I never thought I'd see Draco Lucifer Malfoy wearing _muggle_ clothes!" Harry exclaimed. Draco glared.

"That is _not_ my middle name!" he snapped.

"Oh…well, one can only presume," Harry shrugged, putting down his mug and picking up his fork again. "You even have a French accent. The last time I heard your voice, it was nothing like that."

"Potter, you need to get your ears checked. There's nothing wrong with my accent. It's still the same."

"I didn't say anything was wrong with it…its quite pleasant." Harry cleared his throat at the inquiring look he was receiving from the other man. "Whatever. I hear differently." Draco snorted in disbelief and flipped the page to his book. "Anyways, you also don't have the uptight, smug look on your face anymore."

"I was never smug," Draco responded, turning up his nose.

"Are you kidding?" Harry's face lit up with unbelievable shock. "Malfoy, you were the biggest self-righteous, arrogant, I'm-oh-so-rich prick in all of Hogwarts!"

"I was not," he said firmly.

"Merlin…" Harry muttered.

"What?" Draco snapped.

They looked at each other for awhile. Draco devoured the brilliant, soft yet piercing green eyes of Harry Potter. They held so much intensity, he nearly tipped forward into the very soul of the other man. He was being consumed.

"Why are you here?" Draco asked suddenly. Harry blushed, realizing that he was staring too hard at Draco. He cleared his throat, hoping to shake off the awkwardness of talking to his ex-archenemy of Hogwarts.

"I had to launch my broom here. I don't know why my agent decided on Paris. I thought I was just going to launch the broom over at home. But the break is well-needed."

"You made a broom?" Draco asked, confused. Harry smiled. Draco was the first person who did not fawn over him creating "a legendary broom."

"Yeah, I did. It's called the Model 3000." Draco snorted.

"Very _creative_ Potter…'Model 3000'! How catchy!" he said sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up…" Harry moaned. "You're being insufferable. The title is well suited, and I adore it. It's simple."

"Well, we all have to worry about your definition of "simple" Potter. We know everything you do or say is a leap for you. Even tying your shoes…"

"Cram it," Harry said, but was smiled nonetheless. He was enjoying this conversation, until,

"So…when's the wedding?"

Draco had been flipping through his Potions book uninterestedly, waiting for the now ridge Harry to answer.

"Some time in April, I suppose. Ginny loves spring."

"Ah, so do I…" Draco said, looking up. "It's a time of rebirth."

"Yeah, I guess. She wants everything to be yellow and white…I have no idea why, but so far our wedding budget is $650,000 galleons." Draco gasped.

"What the bloody fuck are you two spending that much on a wedding for?" Draco asked, taken aback. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. Ginny's in charge of all that."

"I'm surprised you're not broke…I didn't know you were so wealthy, Potter," Draco said, sitting back in his chair. Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"I hate discussing my finances with people…but I was left an inheritance when my parents died. As the years went on, the money was invested in to things…earned some money through that…Then Sirius died, and he left the Black fortune to me."

"Wait…the _Black_ family?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, Sirius Black was my godfather."

"Bloody hell…I remember now. My mother was his cousin. They were incredibly wealthy, a multi-billion galleon family, you know? They were almost as rich as the Malfoy's.

"Well, now I own it, and the houses, which I donated to the Order. They're using it as an orphanage for the victims of the war." Draco nodded with approval.

"Very good Potter, I knew you were the charitable type…always risking your neck for the better of society. But you obviously can't control your woman, she's dipping a little too deep into your pockets," Draco drawled. The insult made Harry's face scrunch up with anger.

"I can control her! I mean…I don't need to control her…Ginny's her own person. I can't control her, that's cruel. It's our wedding, she wants the best, and I'll give it to her!"

"Of course."

"What would you know anyways? I don't see a woman hanging about you! I would think you'd have all the women in this shop throwing them selves at your feet…" Harry said, crossing his arms against his chest. Draco grinned widely.

"The women who visit this shop adore me from a distance…but I rather enjoy the company of our male customers…if you get my drift," Draco said shamelessly. He even smirked. Harry's jaw slid open in shock as he surveyed the smirking Draco Malfoy.

"You're _gay?_"

"Oui, of course I am!"

"No…you're kidding…" Harry muttered out.

"Not kidding, I'm quite gay, actually."

"But…at Hogwarts…" Harry started, but Draco interrupted him.

"—I liked maintaining my reputation there. But I'm free to do as I want now. I've loved boys for a very long time Potter, since Hogwarts in fact. Girls were just a pastime. But boys were everything I needed." Draco took in the nervous and slightly uncomfortable shift in Harry's presence. "Do you have a problem with me or something?"

Harry flinched. "Malfoy, I've _always_ had a problem with you…I assure you, my loathing for you has not changed." Draco laughed.

"Good." A silence fell between the two once again, and Harry finished his coffee. Harry placed the empty mug on top of the empty circular cake dish that Jacques had given him. Draco finally closed his Potions book, realizing that he was not gaining anything by staring blankly at it. "So," Draco started, eyeing Harry with discreet curiosity. "Would you like to go out sometime? Get an aperitif? I know some great bars…" Harry was about to decline when Jacques showed up.

"Oh, 'Arry, darling…you've been kept away with my Draco for such a long time, and look—no fighting! I assume you two apologized, oui?" Harry blushed, feeling the gentle gaze of Jacques on his now-reddening face.

"We apologized," Harry answered.

"I suppose. I was just asking Harry here out for a drink," Draco drawled. Jacques threw him an intrigued look.

"Ah…" he started. "Sounds like a lovely idea…"

"So how about it Potter?"

"Erm…" Harry glanced up at the expecting look on Jacques's face, and then at the quiet judgmental look Draco was giving him. "Sure, how about tomorrow night?" he asked, defeated.

"Perfect," Draco said with a smile. "You'll see Paris through a new set of eyes Potter…" Draco said softly. Harry nodded and stood from his chair.

"Well, I better go," Harry excused himself to gather his shopping bags. "It's rather late, and I still have to call Ginny."

"Ah, yes, the little woman," Jacques said happily. "She is very pretty?"

"Very." Harry beamed. "She's tall, with red hair and the prettiest freckles going across her nose. She's absolutely adorable," Harry answered.

"True love!" Jacques laughed, watching Harry's beaming smile waver a bit. "Love is a magnificent thing to behold, but you would know all about that, with your little woman, 'Arry!" Draco knew that Harry could not see the trap Jacques was setting up for him. Harry's expression was proving just how skeptical he was of his future marriage to the youngest Weasley.

"I think Potter should get going," Draco said, coming to Harry's rescue, Harry in return giving him a relieved look.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy. Is six okay?"

"Sounds good to me, see you then Potter."

Harry began to walk over to the door and Jacques followed him out. Harry turned to say goodbye but Jacques quickly kissed him on the cheek.

"Good evening 'Arry. My Draco will see you tomorrow," he said, holding open the door, a gust of winter air entering the warm shop. Harry smiled and walked out of the shop, his cheek still tingling from the soft, promising kiss Jacques had left on it.

"Mon dieu…is Potter your green-eyed lover, Jacques?" Draco asked, standing close behind Jacques as he allowed the door to shut. He had finally put two and two together. Jacques nodded.

"Oui…but I have a feeling, he is not my type. You know? The type that marries women," Jacques said laughing. "I see you are being friendly with him."

"I'm going to prove that I'm not as heartless and childish as believed to be, Jacques. I'm going to get Harry Potter to forgive our childish antics from the past."

"You are quite determined, mon fils…I'm very proud."

"Thank you Jacques." Draco laughed. "That means the world to me."

-----

* * *

**_TEASER FOR CHAPTER SEVEN!!!!!!_**

_It wasn't the liquor, Harry knew that. But soft lips met warm, full ones, and the world seemed to stop. _

**Shout out to:** **Wizli, Red Kasei, "The Fire" a****nd Caden!** You all left comments that'll make a chick blush and such! THANK YOU! I take your words to the heart.

Don't forget to do the contest! Please leave your comments, your two cents make each chapter better than the last. I feel like maybe people don't like this story (pouts). Sorry if there are any errors in this chapter, it's a quick ass update because I'm not feeling too well, I have to flu. Anyways,

Don't be a SHREW! Please REVIEW!


	7. Chapitre Sept

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only**

* * *

**SUMMARY: **_To be determi__ned!_

**AN: **You guys are so amazing, and I love the summaries that you all left! However, I did get a couple of emails from some of you who did not know what to write, so I will extend the announcement of the new summary/winner until the next chapter. I can't begin to thank you all for your help, your kind words, and your patience for chapter seven. I have so far written up to chapter ten, which is by far my most PRIZED chapter, I adore it and can't wait to share it with you all! I'm sorry for the lateness of this chapter. It will not happen again.

Thank you all so much! I can't express my gratitude enough through these words.

Love you,

Mlle. P

**-----**

**Chapitre Sept**

_December 27, 2006_

Harry stood in front of his mirror, wishing it wasn't a muggle artifact and would tell him how he looked tonight. He didn't know how he was supposed to dress for his date with Draco.

Date.

Men don't have dates, they have _outings_, he thought viciously. He scowled, believing what a horrible idea he had been set up to deal with. He was going to go get a drink with someone he had hated for years. Harry had to ask himself several times why he had agreed to do such a thing.

_I have nothing better to do?_ He answered. Yes, that would be the reason. _No,_ Harry's mind shouted back. _It's because you have some strong urge to please Jacques, that's why! _Harry sighed. But then again, there was something peculiar about Malfoy that irked Harry incredibly. What the hell happened to Draco Malfoy, that rude, intolerable boy from Hogwarts? He'd transformed into some tall, nearly-decent blond man in five years. Harry wanted to figure it out, his old Auror skills kicking in. He _had_ to see what possessed Malfoy to turn a new leaf.

He stared back into the mirror, glowering. He never truly admired the luxuries of fashion, often being called handicap in that area. He hadn't bought his own clothing until entering Hogwarts, even then the little muggle clothes he had were poorly picked, having always worn baggy clothes that hung off of his lithe form. In his last year at Hogwarts, with a little bickering from Hermione, and a lot of angry, insulting jabs from Ginny, he had decided to get a little lesson from the two girls concerning fashion. Harry will never forget, before the Great Battle with Voldemort, Ginny entering his dorm room holding a pair of black trainers. _"Honestly Harry, you're not going out in those horrid white trainers, are you? Wear these…"_

Then his hair was a ghastly problem. His horrible, long, untamed hair…It poked out in every direction, and wouldn't stay down no matter how many spells he placed on it. When he was a child living with the Dursley's, Vernon or Petunia would always try to shave him bald, but miraculously, the next day he would have his unruly jet black hair back, as good as before. It was like that now in his adult years too…even a _trim_ wouldn't stay for too long. Within hours, the inch or two that Harry would have cut off would be back. He realized that going to a salon and spending ten pounds on a haircut was simply too much to do every day.

_Shite,_ Harry thought. He ran over to the bedside table and picked up his cellular phone. It was six o'clock. He was late for his date—_outing_, with Draco.

_Draco?_ Harry asked himself. He shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to be civil. They did a good job at it the day before.

Harry sighed yet again. It was going to be a long night.

------

Draco yawned and lazily looked down at his watch. It was fifteen minutes past six, and Potter was late. Jacques kept sending him soft looks, as if to consol Draco. If he was being snubbed by Potter, the ex-Gryffindor would have hell to pay later.

"I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE—" said a panting voice. Both Draco and Jacques (and half of the café) looked up to see Harry Potter barging into the place, his cheeks a blazing red and his eyes misty from the sting of the winter wind.

"Qui est cet imbécile?" sniggered a young boy sitting by the door with a group of friends. They all looked up at Harry with teasing smiles on their faces as he made his way to Draco, who was glaring at the group of them. "Monsieur Draco, désolé!" _Sorry Mr. Draco,_ the boy cried out at the look on Draco's face.

"Comme tu étiez, garçons!" _As you were, boys! _Draco shouted back. The young teens went back to their food. Harry shot Draco a puzzled look.

"They were teasing you," Draco mumbled.

"Why?" Harry asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"You came in here barging…it's an unusual sight around here. I told them off, so you don't have to hex them or something…they're just young muggle boys," Draco said, waving his hand around to emphasize the laziness of his words.

"Good, cos I didn't bring my wand with me," Harry muttered, a smile crossing his features. "So I guess you're quite popular here? I heard the boys say your name."

"Why don't we talk about that later," Draco said, standing from his seat. "You're about fifteen minutes late."

"Yeah, sorry about that, I didn't know what to wear," Harry blurted out. He then bit his lower lip, a blush spilling on to his cheeks. "Bugger…"

"It's quite okay. You look decent Potter," Draco drawled, walking pass Harry to the door. "Jacques, we are leaving."

Jacques, who had been chatting up a young woman by the counter, looked over at the two men. "Oh Harry, it is lovely to see you again! Have fun with my Draco, oui?" Harry smiled politely and exited the shop with Draco.

"I know a bar not far from here that sells the best wine. I used to bartend there a lot, but I was fired," Draco said, walking beside Harry.

"Fired? Why?"

"Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that. The owner was a prick and was the hugest poof I knew. I wouldn't let him in my trousers and I guess that contributed to terminating my employment there. The money was shite, but it gave me something to do, you know?" Draco asked, looking over at Harry. He nodded. Draco continued, "I was new in France then, and I had just met Jacques at the peak of it all."

"So why are you going back there?"

"I want a drink, that's why." Draco said. "_Taxi!"_ he shouted, throwing up his hand. Immediately, he was able to haul down a cab, and they both slipped into it. Harry didn't pay attention as Draco muttered quickly to the driver, only catching words like _Les Halles_ and _merci._

Draco sat back smoothly in his seat, and made sure he was not touching Harry at all.

"It's really beautiful here," Harry whispered, peering out at the moving scenery outside the window. The night lights of Paris had finally kicked on, casting a soft glow on the street corners and illuminating the river and the bridges so magnificently that Harry shivered. He pressed his face against the glass of the window, and he could have sworn he saw two blurs moving against each other underneath the bridges of the river.

"I know, sort of makes you want to be swept away in it all? I felt the same way when I first arrive. Originally, the Malfoy's are from France. I believe we arrived in England in the early 17th century. An unpleasant slaying of muggles started to hit the streets of Paris, and my great Grandfather times a hundred was accused of the murders. We were exiled from France then, and brought our family and fortunes to England."

"How dreadful," Harry said sadly.

"I know, to have my families' lives packed up and shipped elsewhere…"

"…no. I meant for those poor, defenseless muggles. I'm assuming that he was indeed behind the slayings?" Harry eyed him suspiciously, as if waiting for some indication to Draco's outtake on the situation.

Draco frowned, "unfortunately, yes. My family's history is nothing to be proud of Potter. I don't get pleasure in reminiscing about instances such as the one I explained to you, thank you very much." Draco sent him a sideways glare, before realizing that the cabbie was coming to a stop, "ah, we're here."

After paying the fare, and Draco waving the taxi off, did Harry actually turn around and look at the bar that Draco had brought him to. It was shabby, made out of what nearly looked like black stone, and surprisingly had an inviting aroma filtering about the room as the two entered. Immediately, Harry began to assess the people that populated the inside of the bar. Tall, thin men dressed fashionably in all black, older gentlemen with over-twinkling eyes that leaned towards perversion more so than gentleness, scandalous women with loud, high pitch laughter, drunken widows adorned with long, beady jewelry around their neck, and a group of intellectual-looking youngsters huddled together over a notepad and a cheap bottle of wine, reciting what sounded to Harry like poetry.

"Where do you fit in?" Harry asked suddenly, as he and Draco made their way towards a small round table in the back of the bar.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, taking a seat that had him facing the rest of the bar.

"What clique did you fit in? You can't tell me you worked here and didn't associate with some or _more_ of the distinguished groups present tonight," Harry said with a slight grin. Draco shrugged.

"I suppose you can say I hung around the older women too over-dressed for a full night of drinking in a shabby bar. Each _Madame_ had her own story to tell about a husband lost to war, or a child gone and grown too fast, or something horrendously saddening and tragic. When I wasn't around them, I was usually fighting off the older group of fairies you see over their laughing and smoking persistently," Draco said, nodding towards the men Harry had thought looked perverted. A few of them had actually grinned in Draco's direction, dropping heavily-noticed winks. Draco turned away from the display, however, looking across the table at Harry's stricken face. "They're nasty men, bad business, complete and utter rot."

Harry nodded. Suddenly, his nostrils were assaulted by a fruity, tangy scent as a waitress made herself present.

"Draco!" she cried, jumping up and down, her rather large breasts nearly popping from out of her small, dangerously low-cut black shirt. She had a white apron tied around her waist, the standard uniform for her job. Her short blond curls bounced along with her as she threw long, pale arms around Draco's neck, kissing him soundly twice each, on both cheeks. Draco grinned widely and wrapped his arms around the girl's petite body, hugging her to him gently as she whispered what sounded sweet to Harry in Draco's ear. "Ah! Mon amour," she exclaimed pulling away from him. "Il a été si long!"

"Oui…Monique…" Draco smiled up at her. "This is Harry." The blonde girl turned surprised eyes onto Harry, as if she had not seen him before waltzing over to the table.

"Oh, quite the catch, mon dragon…" Monique said in a scratchy, raw voice.

"You're not French?" Harry asked bewilderedly.

"I can be anything you want me to, love," she said bawdily, cupping Harry's cheek. Draco released a chuckle.

"Still up to the same antics I suppose, eh Monique?" Draco asked. The girl dropped her hand from Harry's face and smiled knowingly at him, placing her hands instead on her slender hips.

"Of course!" she cried. "How could I ever give up the gift of pleasing another?" she said happily. She suddenly dropped her smile. "I've missed you mon dragon, and you've been so distant since Raquel threw you out. I was waiting for you to call me…but I know how things have been with you, so busy with school and all…"

"Oh, you know about Malfoy being—" Harry started. But Draco cut him off.

"Being a science major now…still?" Draco finished. Monique gave him a puzzled look before smirking.

"Oh of course I remember Draco. Do you think me a bad friend of sorts? I remember what you're doing in school!" She giggled and pulled out a white notepad. "Let's start you two handsome men off with some drinks, oui? What will you be drinking tonight?

-

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._ Harry's mind shouted at himself.

Harry waited as Monique left them to go place their orders in. When she was out of earshot, Draco turned his icy gray eyes on him.

"Damn it Potter, you almost gave me away there," he said through gritted teeth.

"I didn't know…"

"Well, standard rule there, you dunderhead, is that you never mention _magic_ in a muggle facility," Draco whispered.

"I'm sorry, okay? Merlin's balls Malfoy just calm down…" Harry trailed off. Draco shrugged, releasing a much needed sigh. "Monique and you are close?"

"As close as two ex-coworkers can be, I suppose."

"She's not French?"

"Nope, she's uh…Russian or something. Been living here for years though," Draco answered, picking invisible lint off of his black turtleneck sweater. Harry too had pulled off his winter coat as the stifling air of the bar began to make him sweat.

"Your drinks!" said a cheery voice. Monique had returned, placing a chilled bottle of red wine and a half bottle of cognac in the middle of the table with two sets of glasses, one long and wide, the other short and wide. She then placed a plate of oysters beside the wine. "Your favorite mon dragon…on the house!" She popped the cork of the wine glass, pouring them both half-a-glass full, and placed another smothering kiss on Draco's cheek before turning around and leaving the two men alone once again. Harry took a long sip from his wine, and eyed Draco's oysters suspiciously, having never had one himself.

"Would you like one?" Draco asked, his eyebrow rose in amusement. Harry smiled slightly and shrugged.

"Sure," he said, lifting one from off the plate and sipping the meat from off of the shell, as he had seen Draco doing. There was a pregnant pause before Harry muttered out, "this is just so surreal." Draco chuckled.

"It is, I suppose. Who ever thought that Draco Malfoy would be sitting in a shabby French bar drinking the night away with Harry Potter? It's absurd," Draco said good-naturedly. Harry laughed.

"Well, not as absurd as some situations I have found myself in before. This is quite the pleasant change, if I may say so." Harry paused, giving away and easily smiling at Draco. "How'd you meet Jacques?" he asked. Draco sipped from his wine, sitting comfortably back in his seat and sighing.

"Oh, I met Jacques while I was working here…I used to rent out this hole-in-the-wall apartment from some sickly old wench a few blocks from here. When I was closing this bar for the night, I was seized up by a bunch of muggle muggers. I couldn't reach my wand, and before I knew it, someone had stupefied every bastard around me. I looked up, and there was Jacques, clenching his wand in his hand. I think he was about to obliterate my mind when I shouted that I too was a wizard, and that he didn't have to wipe my mind clean from the incident." Draco paused for a while, taking another sip from his glass before continuing. "Anyways, he told me he's seen me around in the bar, wanted to introduce himself, and what better way to do so than by saving my arse?" he laughed. "I told him where I stayed at, and invited him over for a glass of wine."

"Why were you living in a crummy apartment? I'm sure you could have afforded a…er…_nicer_ place?" Harry asked.

"I kind of disowned myself when I left the Manor," Draco said, watching as shock filled Harry's face. "I mean, I'm still a Malfoy, but as long as I am in Paris, I have no connection to the family fortune, at least not until I come back to England…which, will be never."

"But why—"

"—as I was saying," Draco overlapped. "Jacques came back to my apartment, had a glass of wine with me as I thanked him for saving me, and I told him all about myself. He remembered my name from the Wizarding tabloids and we just sort of clicked. He offered me the space above him shop, and I eagerly took it. After that, he was like a father-figure I never had. Made me realize things about myself that shook my world apart, I love him dearly."

Harry helped himself to another oyster and sat back, giving Draco a blank stare as his mind leaped and looped through several of the things Draco just told him. "Have you always attended The Institute of Magic?"

"Oui, I'm in my last year," Draco said, downing his second glass of wine and filling it with a third. Harry followed him and did the same.

"What are you going to do afterward that, do you have a profession in mind?"

Draco shrugged. "I've considered opening my own potions laboratory, creating new solutions and new problems for the wizarding world to dish through…either that, or I could always work for Hogwarts," Draco ended with a chuckle.

"I can picture you bent over a cauldron…I saw you do it a lot at Hogwarts," Harry smiled. Draco gave him an imploring look.

"I didn't know I was your eye candy during Potions, Potter."

Harry blushed and cleared his throat, "you weren't…you were a distraction." This comment made Harry grow even redder. "I mean—I don't—not like that!" he stuttered. Draco raised a hand, laughing lightly under his breath.

"Calm down Potter, I know what you're trying to say."

"Good, I didn't want any misunderstandings…" Harry breathed out.

"We don't want that," Draco said coolly. "So why the she-weasel?" he asked suddenly.

"Don't call her that. It's either Ginerva or Weasley for you."

"Oh, not Mrs. Potter?" Draco shot back, his lips curling upward as Harry flinched at his comment.

"No, not yet."

"I take it you two were passionate for each other, and then decided to tie the knot quickly?"

"We're not "passionate" for each other…I mean…we _are_…but you make it sound so…temporary…"

"Passion _is_ temporary Potter. See, love is _rare_, and can _only_ be found and conquered once. At first, there is passion, angry hunger that bites and tears the heart away, but after a while, that passion morphs into unadulterated love. Make no mistake, there is always pain and hatred to interrupt that flow of undisturbed romance, but it makes love stronger, it makes the couple in name stronger and even hungrier for his partner. If you are confused as to whether or not you are experiencing passion, then maybe you should review the status of your relationship with Weasley."

Harry stared on in amazement at the speech Draco had just given him.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with my fiancé and I. We're two young people who are getting married. We're finally able to settle down and…er…grow old together."

Draco was tempted to snap that Harry had not mention _love_ at all in the assessment of his future marriage to the she-Weasel. Instead, he clucked his tongue. "Whatever Potter, your funeral, I mean, your wedding." Harry scowled. "So why her. You didn't answer my question."

"Why do you even care?"

"We're talking for Merlin's sake Potter, would you rather we talk about the weather or something? Or stare at each other stupidly until the wine is gone?" Draco shot back. Harry looked over at the wine bottle.

"It is gone."

Draco frowned at the now empty bottle. "How did that happen?" Harry giggled. "Ah, drunk already?"

"No!" Harry growled. "I'm not, I'm completely sober." Harry sighed. "I had to propose, it was expected of me. I'm very close to the Weasley family, they're like my own family, and when we started dating at the end of our…er…I believe our sixth year, I saw how happy it made everyone, and I appreciated all that she helped me through…especially concerning the death of Sirius. I just knew that it was the right thing to do."

"_The right thing to do?"_ Draco questioned incredulously. "Signing your love…hell, your _life_ away to a _modest_ decision is the _right thing to do?_"

"She loves me, and that's enough for me to go on," Harry said dismissively. Draco shook his head.

"Oh, Potter…"

"What about _you_ Malfoy? Do you have some bloke that you've fallen wildly and passionately in love for?" Harry inquired as Draco grunted.

"I had a young Frenchman named Dorian. We broke up not too long ago…"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?" Harry asked, his green eyes cloudy as he poured himself a small amount of cognac. He sipped as Draco gathered his thoughts.

"Well, if you _must_ know Potter, he thought I was too heartless to ever truly fall in love," Draco huffed out, rounding his shoulders as he ran his finger over the rim of his empty wine glass. Harry poured him some of the amber-colored liquid into Draco's shorter glass, of which he took up and drank eagerly. "I was with him for five years almost. It's very hard to wake up in the morning and know that I'm once again alone."

"I'm really sorry Draco," Harry said softly. "If it means anything to you at all, I don't think you're heartless. At least you're not how you were in school. You're a completely different bloke. I like this side of you, if I may say so…I…_enjoy_ this side." Draco brought his somber eyes up to Harry's green ones and smiled. The smile startled Harry at first, but he returned it wholeheartedly. "Why don't we get out of here, eh?" Draco nodded, reaching for his back pocket for his wallet, but Harry held up his hand.

"No, let me…" he said, quickly pulling out some money to place on the table to cover the bill and tip Monique. He then swayed to his feet, throwing his coat on in the process of trying to work his legs again properly. He looked over and realized that Draco was also pulling himself from his seat.

They stumbled out into the icy surroundings that was gripping Paris by the heart this year. The wind was vicious and the ground was slippery with ice. As Draco turned to haul down a taxi, he slipped. As he closed his eyes, preparing for the hard, cold stone ground, he instead felt strong, warm arms wrap around his cold body. He looked up to see Harry staring down at him, his face mixed with horror and excitement. The taxi that Draco had successfully hauled down was parked beside them, but it felt like they were the only two people on the street. Draco was gripping Harry's shoulders for leverage, and Harry had both arms wrapped around Draco's waist. They stood like that for a while, their hearts pounding wildly against their ribcage as the wind whipped through their hair. Draco hooked his arms around Harry's neck fully, pulling him closer. Harry immediately felt panic take hold of his conscious and he knew what was about to happen. It wasn't the liquor, Harry knew that. But soft lips met warm, full ones, and the world seemed to stop.

That is, until there was a loud, scratchy sound of a car's horn making the two fly about a foot in to the air. "Excuser, vous des ânes! Mais, avez-vous besoin de ce taxi?" the cabbie shouted rudely. Draco pulled away from Harry's warm and inviting lips to scowl the cabbie.

"AH! SHAG OFF!" he growled, flipping the older man off. The cabbie released a chain of swearwords and drove off. Draco looked up at Harry, whose face was now aglow with a soft blush. He steadied Draco out, and removed his arms from around him.

"Oh…I'm um…sorry about that," Harry said softly, avoiding Draco's eyes.

"It wasn't your fault," Draco responded.

"I er…think I should be getting back to my hotel."

"We could take a taxi together Potter, it would be a lot safer, than one of us wandering about and waiting for two cabbies."

"It's quite okay. You can get the first one that comes our way." There was an awkward silence. Harry noticed the cold and angry look filtering across Draco's face and cleared his throat. "Okay, let's take a taxi together."

Finally, a cab finally did drive their way, and the two men sat quietly in the back of the cab, lost in their own thoughts. Harry bit his lower lip, fear and confusion sitting on his chest like phlegm from a bad cold. He thought about Ginny, and how much he should be missing her at the moment. But, he was currently being thrown into a whirlwind with trying to think what shade of grey was flecked within the mercury color of Draco's eyes.

What is wrong with me? Harry thought through his fuzzy mind. I'm not attracted to men, only women, only Ginny. Why did I allow Draco to kiss me? Why did I kiss him? Why? Why would I do something like this…this…this…is a mistake. I…I've never felt so…I've never felt so…

Alive.

Yes, so alive. Harry sighed inwardly as Draco sat beside him.

-

They arrived at Jacques's shop, which was closed, dark and quiet. Draco smiled as Harry got out the car with him, quickly looking at his watch to see that it was nearing three in the morning.

"Honestly Potter, it's freezing out here, why don't you come up and sleep on the couch? I swear I won't murder you in your sleep," Draco jested, noticing the uneasy tension around Harry's shoulders.

"I don't know…I should be getting back…"

"Oh, don't be silly, just come up to sleep. It's not a big deal."

"Well…if you insist."

Draco unlocked the café's door, pulling Harry in as they stumbled into the café, eyes adjusting to the darkness. "The stairway is right up ahead. I'll follow you up in a bit, a simply opening charm will unlock my door. I have to put the anti-theft and break-in charms on the door again, and I know you must be freezing. So, just head up there."

"Okay," Harry said, shrugging quietly. He left Draco to put up the blocks on the door, and made his way to the stairs, walking slowly until he reached the landing. He waved his hand over the door, and it swung open, the lights in Draco's apartment immediately clicking on. Harry smiled.

Draco's sitting area was incredibly cozy and neat, with two armchairs, a couch and a loveseat surrounding the fireplace. One side of the wall was a bookshelf, stacked with volumes and volumes of texts. On the far side, there were a few steps separating the sitting room from Draco's cute black and white marble-tiled kitchen. Harry pulled off his coat, draping it over the arm of one of the armchairs and wandered pass Draco's kitchen into the hallway. At the very end of the hallway was a rather large oval shaped window, the moonlight lighting up the area. On one side of the hallway, was a large, white and sea foam green decorated bathroom. And on the other side was Draco's bedroom. Harry was about to step inside, when he heard a voice, scaring him.

"Well, Potter…I didn't think you'd get so cozy that you'd be borderline-nosy," Draco said sweetly. Harry turned around saw Draco standing behind him with two mugs of coffee.

"Sorry, I got carried away," Harry murmured, taking the offered mug from Draco's hands. Their fingers briefly touched, and they both shivered. Harry busied himself with sipping from his mug.

"It's quite okay Potter. I'll give you a change of pyjamas and a blanket for the couch as you finish up your coffee."

"Thanks."

Draco disappeared into his bedroom, and Harry drifted into the sitting room once again, this time browsing through his bookshelf with unfocused eyes, his head pounding with the need of a sobering potion. The coffee helped some, but he still felt heavy and somewhat dizzy. He carefully placed the mug a corner table and stretched in the middle of the room. When Draco entered the area, he was dressed in green shorts and a horrible orange tee-shirt that made his skin look incredibly pale.

"Er…nice pyjamas…" Harry stuttered, his lips twitching into a half smirk. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed some items of clothing into Harry's arms. The then accio'd a soft, plush quilt and a heavy blanket into the room, placing it on the couch and crossing his arms.

"Well Potter, tonight was...interesting…" they stood in front of each other, both smiling softly until Draco cleared his throat. "Well, good night, Potter." Draco turned around, and was walking into the hallway when he heard Harry's low, but strong voice.

"It's Harry, Draco. Call me Harry."

Draco stopped, and turned around to face the other man standing in the middle of his sitting room, his arms wrapped around a bundle of clothing.

"Good night, Harry."

And with that, Draco made his way to bed, a large grin on his face.

-------

_**TEASTER FOR NEXT CHAPTER!!!!**_

_The tears were blinding him as he made his way up the stairs to Draco's apartment, the Daily Prophet clenched tightly in his right hand as he stood on the landing, slamming his palm repeatedly on Draco's door._

"_Please, Malfoy…please, Draco…open up…" Harry cried out. _

-

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review! Thank you! I really hope there are no grammatical errors and such, it's been a long day and I'm sleepy.


	8. Chapitre Huit

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **It was an illicit affair, born one morning in Paris. After Hogwarts, Draco became a student in France, and on a cold wintry day, he bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from a life he no longer understands in Britain. Pure Romance for HP&DM.

**AN: We have a summary! PROPS TO POOKIEOOOKIE for creating it! Thank you to all who participated, I love you so much! This chapter is rated M for a reason. So if you're going to get uncomfortable, scroll down, hit me up with some words, and see ya later. **

**This chapter is big, so take your time! This chapter is also rated M..._I HAVE TO SAY IT AGAI_**_**N:**_**…if boy/boy sex/romance is not your forte, please click back. **

**_THIS SITE WAS GIVI_**_**NG ME SHIT TRYI**__**NG TO UPLOAD THIS CHAPTER! I STUCK AROU**__**ND TO UPLOAD IT THOUGH! SO YAY!  
**_

Love you,

Mlle. P

* * *

**Chapitre Huit**

Let's waste time  
Chasing cars  
Around our heads

I need your grace  
To remind me  
To find my own

If I lay here  
If I just lay here  
Would you lie with me and just _**forget **_the world?

-----

The morning sun light was all but a reminder of last night's antics as Harry opened one pearly green eye to look around at his surrounding. The first thing he felt was a slight soreness in his lower back region, and the second thing was the pounding, infuriating pounding, from within his head. He clenched it, and moaned loudly.

"Awake now, Harry?" Draco asked, walking over to him and sitting on top of the wooden table with magazines sprawled on top of it. He held out a flask with steam coming from out of it. "Don't worry, it's not poison, just a hang-over potion."

"Oh," Harry said thickly, gently removing the flask from Draco hand and downing it in one gulp. Immediately his head felt better, and he sat up on the couch, facing Draco and sunk into the couch and lazily watched as Draco picked up a magazine disinterestedly. "Thanks."

"No problem…would you like to freshen up in the loo? I can give you a spare set of clothing. You're not too much bigger than me; the pyjamas seemed to fit you all right."

It was true; Harry and Draco did have the same built, although Harry was a little thicker around the chest and waist area, and slightly more muscular than Draco in the shoulders and arms. But other than that, they were pretty slender-built. Harry peered down at the cotton gray trousers Draco had given him, and the white tee-shirt that he was currently clad in.

"I suppose, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all. Do you want breakfast? I could whip something up."

"Really now, you don't have to do all that Draco," Harry muttered.

"Well, I'll be eating too _Potter_, don't go getting all egotistical on me…" Draco said with a laugh, tossing down the magazine and standing from the table. "You know where the bathroom is. There's an extra bathrobe in there, along with a toothbrush. Use what you want. I'll bring you the clothes in a jiffy." Draco entered the kitchen as Harry walked pass into the bathroom, shutting the door with a soft click. Draco immediately heard the sink water running.

"Oh, bollocks," Draco heard Harry shout from the bathroom. "What's the date?"

"It's the 28th."

"Fuck! I have a meeting with Ralph today," Harry swore. The water from the shower could be heard now as Draco cracked four eggs into a skillet, the fire roaring from underneath it. He felt an odd twinge in the pit of his stomach as he realized he was cooking breakfast for Harry Potter, his archenemies from Hogwarts. He recalled last night when Harry had asked him to call him by his Christened name…It had surprised him and somehow delighted him at the same time.

"What time is it?" Harry shouted again. Draco scowled, looking onto the stove's digital clock.

"It's a quarter to ten!" Draco shouted back, pulling out a spatula and stirred the eggs in the pan.

He supposed that Potter had wanted him to call him Harry because they were _adults_ now. Why wouldn't they call each other by their first names? It was natural, and the animosity they used to have against each other was long forgotten over the course of five years. Draco touched his unshaven jaw, wincing as he remembered just days ago how Harry had punched him there. Well, maybe not _all_ of the animosity was gone, but honestly, Draco mused, Harry should attempt to make amends with him, after all, he did severely cut his face up in sixth year. After throwing on some bacon and kippers, Draco quickly turned off the fire as the food sizzled and popped in the pan, remembering that he had to get Harry some clothes. He made his way to his bedroom, his thoughts troubling him as he recalled how fascinating Harry's lips were. He tried with all his might to push it to the back of his head, these scandalous thoughts, charting it off as an accidental snog blamed on liquor. There was something about the look of Harry's mouth, soft plush lips that were puckered and warm-looking, that he couldn't stop thinking about. As he pulled open his closet, Draco's hand brushed up against some extra clothing Dorian had left awhile ago when they were still together.

What am I thinking? Draco's mind hissed.

Dorian had left him all but two weeks ago, and then the Matthew bloke had been sweet and extremely promising, but the pain was still there. Now, Draco was contemplating the lips of a one Harry Potter, Wizarding Savior and Precious Golden Boy who was soon to be married to a She-Weasel.

"What am I thinking?" Draco asked, this time aloud. He pulled out a pair of denim jeans and a green sweater his mum had given him last year for Christmas. He thought it would look nice on Harry.

Well, he subconsciously thought it would look nice on Harry.

Draco entered his hallway and crossed it, knocking loudly on the bathroom door. The water pressure was high, Draco knew, and Harry probably couldn't hear his knocking, so he began to shout. "I'm outside the door!" Draco glowered. "I'm coming in!"

Draco wasn't prepared for a naked, _wet_ Harry Potter to be scrabbling from out of the shower to reach the door with one hand, and grabbing a towel from a rack with the other. Draco was lost for words as the clothes he had pulled out for Harry nearly fell to the floor. Harry didn't move to cover himself, but instead stared at Draco with surprised eyes that were mixed somewhat with…

Arousal?

Draco didn't know. He shook these thoughts of Harry he had been having frequently today from his head. Harry had now wrapped the towel fully around his waist, avoiding all eye contact with Draco.

"Potter," he snapped, placing the clothes on the closed toilet. "Your clothes!" and with that, he turned from the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

"Er…thanks," he heard the soft comment.

"Bloody tart," Draco grumbled, walking back to the kitchen.

-

Harry had slipped into the kitchen a few minutes later, still avoiding any major moves or eye contact with Draco. He sat quietly at the kitchen table as Draco slammed things around and pulled drawers open with a little too much force than necessary. He placed a plate of food in front of Harry, along with a mug of coffee and then sat across from him with his own plate and coffee. The utensils had been placed on the table with a cotton napkin.

"Eat Potter, I didn't poison it," Draco growled, shoving into his own food. Harry picked up a knife and eyed the jelly that was in the middle of the table. "That's not poison either," Draco barked. Harry smiled shyly and reached for the strawberry jam, pulling two pieces of toast from the middle of the table onto his own plate, where he then began to spread the jam onto the bread.

"Why are you in such a foul mood, _Malfoy_?" Harry asked suddenly, as he placed eggs on his toast, rolled it, and began to eat it. Draco watched his movements, feeling the anger slowly ebb from out of his chest. He couldn't help but be fascinated by Harry's methods of eating.

"I just walked in on you naked Potter. It's simply too early in the morning for such a horrendous sight," Draco said, although not with so much venom as he would have liked.

"I'm sorry about that, you caught me off guard. I was trying to get out the shower when I heard you shouting," Harry explained. "It was an accident. I'm sorry if I caused you so much _grief,_" Harry added with sarcasm. He finally met Draco's eyes, his own green ones lit with laughter as he threw Draco a smirk. "But then again, you did come in on _me_, so you knew what was beyond the door."

"Are you accusing me of trying to perv on you Potter?"

"Not exactly," Harry said started, his smirk still in place, "on purpose…but you knew I'd be naked somewhere in that mysterious mind of yours Malfoy."

"That's utter rubbish, and you know it!"

"I don't know," Harry said in a light voice. "After that kiss last night, I'd have to say—"

"—you remember the kiss?" Draco overlapped.

"Of course I remember it, I wasn't dead or anything! I remember it fairly well."

"You're not…grossed out or something?" Draco knew that sounded childish, but he couldn't help but ask. Harry was a straight male, or at least he thought so up until now. Or maybe he didn't classify the kiss as something sexual. If he did, wouldn't it be cheating on his fiancé?

"Why would I be grossed out? It was just a kiss."

"Oh," Draco said. There was a long pause before Draco sighed. "This is so weird Harry. You're in my apartment having breakfast with me after a night of drinking. If someone would have told me this two weeks ago, I would have referred them to a St. Mungos."

"Ah, but here we are, me in your apartment eating breakfast with you, talking and questioning you…"

"Yeah, well, nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition…"

"Oh, ha-ha…I'm not that terrible to have around, am I _Draco_?"

"I suppose you're not," he muttered, taking a long sip from his coffee. "But then again, you are a dunderhead, and I'm expecting at any minute now that you'll say something to make yourself look incredibly stupid and ruin the moment that I thought you actually had two brain cells to rub together and create friction…" Draco said in one breath, buttering his toast before taking a bite from it. Harry spluttered and glanced at Draco's smiling form, only to realize that he was joking.

It was just a joke. Made by Draco Malfoy.

"Nice one," Harry commented, trying to shake the weird feeling building in his stomach. "You're not so bad, do you know that Draco?"

"Oh, thanks," Draco replied mordantly. He eyed Harry heavily before frowning. "I'm such a bad person, right? No one will give poor Draco Malfoy a chance…" he said playfully.

"I'll give you a chance. You're quite the bloke," Harry said sweetly. "You can cook, that's always a plus in my book," he laughed. Draco rolled his eyes. He didn't know how to take Harry's comment. It was almost as if the man was accessing his qualities for a relationship of sorts.

"It's something I picked up from Jacques. _He's_ the real cook; I just learned through observation and practice, I'm still an amateur."

"I think you cook magnificently, not even Ginny can make eggs this good…she puts too much "added flavors" into them, yours are simple."

"Well thank you Harry, it's nice to know that you're comparing my cooking to your to-be wife," Draco said dryly. "How strange of you…"

Harry blushed, "yes, that does seem a bit weird, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, just take it as a compliment to lessen the weirdness, I suppose."

"Ah! But here's the problem, you complimenting me in itself is horribly strange," Draco replied in a factual tone.

"Er…" Harry paused, trying to think of what to say. He shrugged. "I suppose you're right then. This is all horrendously strange, and I've buggered everything up once again."

"Too true," Draco said with a nod. They sat in a comfortable silence for awhile, both finishing up their breakfast. Harry finished his coffee and sighed happily. He looked over to the stove's digital clock and saw that it was nearing eleven.

"Oh! I have to go…I have a meeting to attend to. I can't believe I forgot…" Harry started to stand, and Draco quickly followed suit.

"Let me see you out," Draco swiftly said. "It's the least I could do, after perving on you." He searched the kitchen cabinets quickly for his wand, pointing it to the dirty dishes so they floated into the sink and began to clean themselves. They entered the sitting room, where the exit was and stood by the door.

"So you admit it?" Harry asked with a bawdy grin. He was a little more than shocked when Draco gave him a devilish smile and nodded.

"You caught me red-handed Harry," Draco said, watching Harry maneuver around the room to gather his shoes and winters coat.

Draco held the door open as Harry walked over to him, juggling his coat in his hands. He moved over to the door and waited for Draco to say something. Not waiting any longer, Harry stepped forward and softly kissed Draco on the lips. "That's for the perving," he whispered, "and for the awesome night of drinking," he added, before moving away shyly and heading out the door, a wind-struck expression on Draco's face and a small, blissful smile on Harry's.

-----

"Potter!" shouted a voice. Harry had just entered the conference room within the Quidditch Center of Paris, where Ralph had taken up his work at for the duration of the trip, when Ralph nearly knocked him over. He led Harry to a chair and sat him down on it.

"What is it Ralph? I'm barely in the door and you're trying to suffocate me already?" Harry joked. Ralph was taken aback by Harry's cheerful mood, and instead of retorting, slammed a newspaper down in front of him on the table. Harry bent forward to scan the paper, and quickly recoiled when he saw two pictures of himself, placed side-by-side on the paper. One was a picture snapped of him just the day after the defeat of Voldemort, standing on top of a hill within the Forbidden Forest where he had defeated the disgruntled creature. He was seventeen, and his body was hunched over in silent reflection as a million different emotions flew pass his face in that image. He had gone there to weep over the many lives lost to the war, and his own damaged thoughts about his future.

The other picture, was an image of him with his hands thrown in the air, and literally _bitching_ _out_ his Seeker from the English team. It was a rainy evening, and he had been fighting with Ginny earlier, as he recalled the incident. Ethel wasn't flying to his fullest ability, and began to complain about taking a break, as he realized that Harry was pushing the team extra hard that day. Harry snapped, he had demanded that Ethel fly to the ground to meet him. There, he grabbed a handful of Ethel's uniform, yanking him forward and telling him to either shape up or get his arse off his team. He later approached Ethel in the locker room, apologizing furiously for his behavior, actually breaking down and telling Ethel he was having problems at home with Ginny, and it had nothing to do with him. Ethel had accepted his apology, and took Harry out for a nice pint at a local pub to help cheer him up.

He didn't even know how these pictures were taken of him unseeingly.

But what made these two pictures horrendous, was the headline above them.

"It's by that bitch you mouthed off to a couple of days ago. I knew she was mad, but I didn't think she'd come back like this…this is a personal attack on your character, Potter. You'll have hell to pay."

**"A WORD FROM RITA"  
**

"**HARRY POTTER—BOY WONDER OR MONEY HUNGERY & POWER LOVING MONSTER?"**

_**By Rita Skeeter**_

_The all knowing and powerful Harry Potter might not be what the Wizarding World has perceived of him these odd amount of years. The Boy Wonder, recently, has shown his true colors as being rude, manipulative and at some times extremely verbally abusive. Many close relatives of the man, and many colleagues have come out to explain Harry Potter's cold demeanor and hot, angry temper when things do not go his way. _

_Harry Potter's young Seeker for the English Team, Ethel Rosenberg, told the Daily Prophet, "I know that Coach Potter is hard on us…but yeah, sometimes it's a little too much. Sometimes we the rest of the team get hurt in the process." Rosenberg, only 18 years old, is a recent graduate from Durmstrang, and has grown accustom to the many ugly faces of Harry Potter. Others, especially Miss Ginerva Weasley, Harry Potter's fiancée, commented on Mr. Potter's behavior._

_Ginerva Weasley sat down with The DP over a cup of tea at The Leaky Cauldron as she took a break from shopping. "Oh, my Harry is very headstrong…of course when he does get angry, he's very scary, and can at times be violent." Miss Weasley reassured The DP that Mr. Potter has never been violent towards her, but "wouldn't think twice about snapping the neck of a Death Eater, or mine if he thought I was one…"_

_One has to wonder what type of hatred and pain Mr. Potter feels for humanity. Many people have approached The DP with complaints about Mr. Potter's attitude. Recently, many ex-Hogwarts students have also came forward, each telling their story of losing a loved one to Harry Potter, or risking their life to fight alongside him under the pretenses that he would save their family, only to have that lie thrown back into their faces. Susan Bones, an ex-Hogwarts student and acquaintance of Mr. Potter who came forward, actually called Mr. Potter a liar. "He told me he'd save my mum…but he didn't…she died right in front of us her and Mr. Potter…" she said to The DP. _

_The idea of Harry Potter being a cold-hearted killer also arises when one reviews just exactly the means Mr. Potter used in defeating the Dark Lord. One source, who wishes to remain anonymous, told The DP that Mr. Potter used the Dark Spell Inferius to bring Lucius Malfoy's corpse back to life and attack and kill former Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange in front of his son, Draco Malfoy. The then seventeen year old Harry Potter had the corpse viciously tear the heart out of Lestrange, and afterwards, ended the charm only to place the Imperius curse on You-Know-Who himself successfully in order to kill hundreds of Death Eater followers. Only one person survived the attack, and that was Draco Malfoy, who was actually a spy for the Order. _

_Draco Malfoy, who has disappeared from England to study abroad, was __not able to comme__nt. But our sources said that the you__ng, i__n__noce__nt tee__nager __had to watch the horrendous and violent death of his Father, only to watch his father's corpse kill his aunt. This traumatizing event was orchestrated by the deranged Harry Potter we all loved a__nd adored__. No one knows what brought on these vicious attacks, and simply agreed to whatever Harry Potter did to capture Death Eaters, but the Wizarding World __now__ knows the angry power that is held inside of Harry Potter. He had killed over o__ne__-hu__ndred-a__nd-thirty-seve__n me__n, wome__n, a__nd yes...childre__n...__ Continued on page 2…_

Harry's hand flew to his throat as he felt bile push its way up. He stumbled onto his feet, blindingly walking from out of the Center, the newspaper still clenched in his hand. He did not hear Ralph's concerned voice at all. When he felt the winter's air hit his face, he took off running, his body shaking with broken sobs. He was a murderer, a ruthless killer and a violent, angry monster. Rita Skeeter had interviewed his friends, she had interviewed his wife, who had either knowingly or unknowingly made matters worse. Ginny knew he hated Rita Skeeter..._how could she?_ his mind roared. He needed to find something…he needed to find someone.

Someone to help him.

Draco would help him, Harry's mind screamed.

The tears began to prickle his eyelids and he found himself breathless and in front of Jacques's shop. He stepped in, the place bustling with business. Jacques did not even see him as he disappeared in the crowd, heading towards the narrow staircase that led to Draco's sanctuary.

The tears were now blinding him as he made his way up the stairs to Draco's apartment, the Daily Prophet clenched tightly in his right hand as he stood on the landing, slamming his palm repeatedly on Draco's door.

"Please, Malfoy…please, Draco…open up…" Harry cried out.

Draco yanked open the door, his hair in disarray, and dressed in afternoon clothing, as Mozart's Lacrimosa blared from invisible speakers. The dramatic composition engulfed Harry as he threw himself into Draco's unexpectedly open arms. He buried his face in the man's neck, wetting it with tears as Draco wrapped his arms around his shaking body, kicking the door shut, his face upturned in shock. The Daily Prophet was still clenched tightly in Harry's hand as he gasped and whimpered. Somewhere in the distance, Harry could hear the sizzle and cackle of a cauldron. The room's aroma was sweet and bitter at the same time, and it all came rushing down on Harry like a familiar song, aching and sorrowful.

"Shhh…" Draco comforted, running his fingers through Harry's wild hair. "What happened?" he murmured against Harry's face. The two stood in the middle of Draco's sitting room, entwined together. Harry sobbed once more and closed his eyes tightly.

"It's the prophet…that _cow_ Skeeter has once again put me in the center of speculation, but this time with such venom I'm sure I'll have hell to pay for," Harry whispered.

"That bitch," Draco interjected helpfully. He pulled Harry away and looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that everything is fine, because it's not. Rita Skeeter is a viper that will suck your blood dry if she could," Draco shook him, "but that doesn't mean this won't blow over…this rubbish _will_ blow over Harry, and you'll get that bitch back," Draco pulled Harry to him once again and squeezed him. "I can't begin to imagine what she must have said about you."

Harry swallowed, remembering what the Prophet said about Draco. He drew in a shaky breath and bowed his head. "I'm so sorry Draco…I'm so, so, _so_ sorry!" he sobbed.

"For what Harry?" Draco asked softly.

"For what I did to you, to you and your family," Harry cried. "I killed your father and your aunt in front of you, and it never occurred to me once what you must have felt at that point in time. I'm so sorry for the hurt I've put you through, and for hitting you…," at that, Harry tenderly touched Draco's chin, "I…I can't believe my own actions Draco, I'm so sorry—" Harry was cut off by Draco pressing his lips against Harry's. This kiss was soft and Draco tried to push forth every ounce of his forgiveness into it. Harry, who was caught up in the intimate embrace, ran his fingers through Draco's hair and then wrapped his arms around his waist as they both stumbled across the sitting room to fall on the nearby couch.

They continued to kiss feverishly, passion taking them both by storm. Harry slipped his hand under Draco's shirt, brushing his nipples underneath the thin cotton. Draco gasped in his mouth as Harry pinched harder. Harry found this time to push his tongue into Draco's warm mouth.

A million different feelings were passing through Harry's mind. One, he was definitely cheating on Ginny by doing this, but he pushed this all the way to the back of his mind. Two, he had never done this before, and the feelings he had concerning Draco now reached its peak, becoming almost too unbearable to ignore. Three, he knew this feeling would not go away. It was new, so fresh it was positively startling. Harry had never kissed a man before, and he had never had feelings for one before, but Draco was here, right now for him, and the need to touch him was so desperate it almost hurt him. He needed Draco to fill the void. The confusion and anger he felt somehow felt so far away when he was in Draco's world. He could easily laugh, say whatever came to his mind, but most of all, he could forget his old life. He could forget Britain and all the troubles that _lived_ there. The fear inside of him was strongly accepted. Of course he was stepping into the unknown, a lifestyle he had never thought about participating in, but it was so sweet it kept his nerves on fire, and he never wanted that to go away. Consequences were not even an option anymore. Just feeling.

Draco, on the other hand was fighting with himself. It was too soon to fall into another romantic tangle, and with a married man, too! Above all that, however, this was still Harry Potter, his archenemies from Hogwarts. They were rivals…enemies. But here he is, kissing him like there's no tomorrow. Draco could taste the fear and desperation on the tip of Harry's tongue, and drank it up like liquor, making him drunk off of the other man's pain. He could give Harry this desire, because he too needed to replace the void in his chest.

Draco removed Harry's coat, and then his shirt, wanting to feel his flesh against his. He paused to trace the scar on Harry's chest and Harry stared down at the scar on Draco's side, knowing that it was from him. He had given Draco this scar the night Voldemort died. He fingered it lightly, mesmerized by the crisscrosses of the healed skin. When he looked up into Draco's face, his eyes were lit with silent amusement, and Harry blushed terribly. He captured Draco's lips once more, pressing his soul into the other man's body. Draco moaned, running his warm hands down Harry's back. Harry swallowed and made a bold move to grasp the buckle of Draco's belt, tugging it as he continued to kiss him. Draco quickly removed it, as he did with Harry's. Soon, they were both naked before each other. Draco cupped Harry's cheek tenderly as a tear slid down it.

"I've never felt this way about…a man or a woman before…" Harry whispered shamefully. "I don't want to scare you, really, I don't…but I think these last couple of days has been amazing, I know we can't go off by only last night, but…I really like you Draco. I wish I could go back in the past and rewrite everything…I wish we could repeat things so I could be with you," Harry covered the hand Draco had on his face with his own and squeezed it.

Something inside of Draco melted a little bit more. He too wish he and Harry could have been so much more. "You're practically married, Harry."

"But I'm here, with you right now…" Harry said quickly, not afraid of what he was admitting to. "I know what this all means."

Draco pulled Harry into another kiss. "You've never done this before," Draco stated. Harry nodded.

"Teach me," Harry said playfully. Draco groaned at the tone, feeling his body react to it. Harry pounced on him, pushing him onto his back against the couch. He positioned himself between Draco legs pulling them up roughly to circle around his waist.

"Well," Draco laughed. "You're doing well so far," he stared up at him, nibbling on his lower lip.

"So what now?" Harry asked, aligning himself against Draco's bum. He shook his head quickly.

"No…not yet…that'll hurt me." Draco knew this conversation was going to take an awkward turn.

"Er…why?"

"Because I'm not ready for you to do _t-t-that_," Draco stuttered. "It's…um…it's almost like shagging a virgin every time, do you understand?" Draco blushed. Harry nodded slowly.

"I get you…I know what I'll do," he whispered mischievously, suckling on his two fingers before slipping them into Draco. He moaned, pushing against Harry's hand. Harry slowly pumped into him, admiring the flustered look that took hold of Draco's pale face. He continued the motion until Draco grunted.

"I swear Harry, I won't be able to last if you don't, you know…" he said breathlessly. Harry grinned and removed his hand, only to replace it with his member. Draco gasped, the feeling of Harry consuming him became overwhelming, and he found himself crying outward to the ceiling. Harry nearly collapsed on top of Draco, whispering the other man's name into his ear sweetly, the feeling also shaking him to his core. He began to move at a steady rhythm, yearning to hear more of Draco's cries. He felt a lurch erupt in his stomach and he felt himself draw near. They both came together, riding against one another's feverous explosions until they were left panting.

"Are you sure you've never done that before?" Draco gasped. Harry laughed and shook his head. Harry removed himself from off of Draco, carefully moving the other man so that he laid sprawled out on top of him on the rather small couch. Harry wrapped his arms around Draco, pushing back some of his hair to kiss him softly on the cheek before sighing contently. In a few minutes, Draco's eyes began to flutter close, weariness threatening its hold on him.

"You're exquisite, Draco…I love…_I love_…what you've given me," Harry whispered, believing Draco was slipping into a lethargic sleep. It was so soft, Draco had to strain to hear it. "I wish I could stay here with you forever, and love.._.yes...love you_ because believe it or not, we are so much similar than we are different," he heard Harry sigh. "You're different and this unknown territory is different but the idea of you being by my side through it makes it seem so amazing. I would never return to Britain, if you would only have me love you forever and ever, and build from our past to make a future..." he trailed off, sleep nearly consuming him whole.

His confession was close enough, Draco presumed, and it still hit home.

As Harry curled against him for a much needed sleep, conjuring a blanket to drape around their nakedness, Draco realized something unfolding in his chest like a beautiful morning lily.

He absolutely adored Harry Potter.

Loved, even.

* * *

Thank you once again for reading another chapter of For Your Eyes Only! You all rock. I didn't want to make the "sex" seem too graphic, but I didn't want to make it look plain. I really hope you guys liked it. **I do feel like this chapter is…lacking. **I'm so sorry. Please tell me your thoughts on it! It will help loads! Again, I hope there are minimal mistakes in this chapter; it's nearing four in the morning. Oh, what is the purpose of a BETA and how do you get one? 

Lyrics in the beginning: Snow Patrol—Chasing Cars.

_**TEASER FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!**_

"_Okay, I can say this," Harry told himself, stepping around the many people in the coffee shop to reach Draco. "I can do this…I can DO THIS…"_

"_Oh! MY GOD! HARRY!" cried a female's voice from the side. _


	9. Chapitre Neuf

**Pour ****Vos****Yeux****Seulement****: For Your Eyes Only

* * *

**

**SUMMARY: **It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris, in a small apartment above a cafe. HPDM.

**A****uthoress ****N****ote**It's been nearly eight months since I've updated this story! I'm so sorry, please forgive me, but I have the next two chapters completed, and if feedback is well, I should be posting Chapter Ten on Monday! Again, forgive me, and leave warm comments!

**Also, in this chapter, I use a lot of lyrics, poems, and other tid-bits to just add some culture to the story. I hope you all enjoy them as much as I do**** Not only that, but this is a long chapter. I hope it will make you guys forgive me for the long wait? **

**"THE EPIC CHAPTER"**

Love you,

Mlle. P

**-----**

**Chapitre ****Neuf**

Shivering, frozen mid the frosty snow in biting, stinging winds; running to and fro to stamp one's icy feet, teeth chattering in the bitter chill.

To rest contentedly beside the hearth, while those outside are drenched by pouring rain.

We tread the icy path slowly and cautiously, for fear of tripping and falling.Then turn abruptly, slip, crash on the ground and, rising, hasten on across the ice lest it cracks up.We feel the chill north winds course through the home despite the locked and bolted doors...this is winter, which nonetheless brings its own delights.

--Antonio Vivaldi, _Winter_ (1)

January 28, 2007

A dewy winter's sun played on the bare back of a young man curled tightly around a pillow on a soft, silken bed. The blue sheets were twisted around his naked body, shielding his lower half from the sun's intruding rays. As if tempting him to stir from his slumber, the strong aroma of coffee filtered through the small apartment, begging him to wake and join the jostling, joyful spirits out and about in the Parisian streets.

"_Fais dodo, mon petit homme  
Car ta amour près du berceau  
Veille sur ton léger somme  
Jusqu'à demain, jusqu'à demain.  
Fais dodo"_ (2) 

Draco was leaning over Harry's sleeping form, whispering a children's lullaby in his ear, his damp hair tickling the side of Harry's cheek. He softly began to kiss the sensitive patch of skin beneath Harry's ear, making the dark haired man release the pillow he had gripped to his chest and stretch languidly.

"Morning," Harry said in a sleepy tone. He surveyed the happy twinkle is Draco's grey swirling eyes. It had been a blissful month of exploration, love-making, and sweet aperitifs with Harry and Draco. "And I don't think a werewolf will carry me away now, since I'm so fully awake and capable of defending myself," Harry murmured, referencing the end of Draco's lullaby. "I should definitely keep sleeping."

The blonde laughed, "You're catching on quick. I love when you understand my French." Draco leaned forward to kiss Harry softly on the lips, the dark haired man responding by wrapping his arms around his lover and pulling him further onto the bed. Draco looked at Harry with amusement. "I would love to continue this morning snog, but I promised Jacques that I would open and watch the shop while he is away in Cannes," Draco said, giving Harry another kiss on the mouth before pulling away from his embrace.

"And I suppose the smell of that wonderful coffee is there to persuade my decision of getting up?" Harry asked, stretching in the bed again as he gave Draco a blur of a smile.

"C'est le seul chemin," _It is the only way;_ Draco responded with a grin, throwing clothes about the room. Harry then sat up in the bed, watching as Draco rummaged through the closets looking for something to wear. After slipping on his glasses, Harry finally saw the time hanging above the bed. It was seven in the morning.

"Merlin Draco, it's only seven in the morning," Harry complained, running a hand through his hair. "Why can't we just leave the shop closed for today and spend our time in bed…serving each other?"

Draco made a tsk'ing noise and turned to face Harry, his hands holding his black jeans up on his hips. "As wonderfully sexy as that proposal sounds Potter, I have a responsibility to uphold as Jacques's employee! However, getting you all hot and bothered is part of today's agenda; it just cannot be carried out right at this moment," Draco said smartly, enlisting a groan from Harry.

---

"Elle est jolie!" _She is pretty. _

"Merci, elle est à trois, pouvez-tu croire?" _Thank you! She's only three, can you believe it? _

Draco reached out to touch the small child's plump hands, the little girl giggling wildly as her Mother bounced her on her hip. She thanked Draco again and exited, juggling her child in one hand, and a latte in the other. The shop was in full swing, yet in a relaxing sense that didn't make Draco fret about the flow of costumers. Having finally gotten down from the apartment around eight, Draco was met with a couple of stray people walking back and forth outside of the café, waiting for it to open. He hastily apologized for the wait, and went straight to making coffee, offering sweets and cakes, and chatting up the people who would let him. A young mother and her child had been his center of attention for awhile. A tired, but delicious looking Harry was in the back of the shop, hidden behind bookshelves. He was wearing simple jeans and a red t-shirt, giving him a boyish look that was perfect for such a laid-back day. He was so very tempted to go and ravish Harry in the dark corner. Draco himself had vouched for black jeans and a black sweater, a matching beanie pulled over his almost white-blonde hair, the ends messily tucked under his hat, the length of the luxurious hair kept hidden.

He watched as Harry pulled down a small book, his brow furrowed together in deep concentration as his hand ran down the face of the book, tracing the raised letters. Draco caught a small smile filter across Harry's lips, and watched as the raven haired man disappeared once again behind the shelves, probably to find the small armchair in the far corner, where he could sit and read.

"Excusez-moi!" said a voice. Draco turned his face to look at the young woman standing before him. He gave her a dazzling smile.

"Bonjour, puis-je vous aider?" he asked. The woman gave him a tight smile, her eyes closing briefly, as if she were thinking.

"Em…oh _bollocks_…er…"

"British?" Draco asked suddenly, a knowing look on his face.

"Yes," the woman sighed. "Am I that obvious?"

"No, how you said 'excuse me' could've had me fooled," Draco said sweetly. The girl seemed about his age, with long, unruly brown hair and exquisite brown eyes. Her face seemed strangely familiar, but he didn't question the feeling any further than in his head. She sighed again.

"Thanks, that's sweet of you," the girl said. "I seem to have found some time on my hands, and decided to venture out, resulting in me being here at this pretty little cafe. Are you the owner?" she asked, laughing a little too loudly.

Draco laughed with her. "No, I wish. The owner is currently out of town, and I live upstairs and told him I would watch over the shop."

"Oh, wicked. I would love to have a job like this. It seems so fun—so carefree! You get to meet new people, serve things that smell amazing, and just…thrive on the environment."

"It is quite wonderful; Mlle. What's your profession?"

"I just finished being certified as a doctor…I'm here because I'm about to publish a book on some medical theories I've discovered during my residency, and my publisher is currently located in Paris for some reason. I'm so wired, I need to wise-up a bit with some of your best coffee here, if possible? I'm not much a coffee drinker, but it smells so heavenly, I couldn't miss the opportunity!" the woman said. Draco nodded and turned to make her the beverage. Out of the corner of his eye his saw Harry re-emerge from the library, bookless. He made eye-contact with him for a second. Sending him a small wave, Draco watched Harry head upstairs to the apartment.

"The music in this café is quite—trendy," the girl commented, looking at the small cakes that decorated the counter. Draco nodded as he worked the machines. Draco sometimes forgot the soft hum of music playing in the café, his attention usually on the talk of customers. He listened carefully.

_"Ils s'etaient rencontres sur les bancs d'l'ecole _

_Entre une heure de colle de maths ou d'un cours d'espagnol _

_C'etait un fille fun fana de football _

_Lui ne craignait pas les balles, c'etait le goal _

_C'qu'il lui promettait c'etait des ballades en Corvette _

_Pour l'instant en survet, il volait des mobylettes _

_Mais entre eux c'etait toujours complicite _

_Escale sur un piedestal un reve delimite _

_S'il devenait triangle, elle serait rectangle…"_ (3)

"It is, it's French rap music. Quite popular around here, I enjoy the French hip-hop and rap scene," Draco said, adding the necessary touches to her coffee. The girl looked up at him.

"It seems interesting. I've read about the music and art scene in Paris. It's very elaborate and influential. I want to check out the Musée du Louvre before leaving, and I guess check out an opera."

"But there's much better music here than what you can experience in an opera, Mlle. There is the underground scene here. Just stepping into a night club up this street will open your eyes to all new things. I'm not saying that an opera isn't worth it, it is _very_ worth the expense, but as young as you are, you should enjoy the youth of Paris, for it can be a jovial spirit at night."

The girl stared at him, as if her mind was turning over and examining what he had just said to her. She nodded her head. "It doesn't seem like anything I would ever do, but…what the hell. I'm in France! I should."

"Excellent. Your drink," Draco said. He gave her an approving nod as he handed the brunette her coffee. She opened the cap, blowing on the surface and lifted it to her pink lips to take a sip. She giggled.

"This is quite superb," she said, licking her lips. "How much do I owe you?"

"2 Euro," Draco responded. The girl pulled out her wallet from within her small leather bag that was dangling off of her elbow. She pulled out the amount and placed it in Draco's waiting hand.

"Well it's been a pleasure. Thank you so much. Perhaps I'll come back and visit? I see there's a small casing of books in the back? I'll definitely be back later," the woman said happily. She gave Draco a wave of good-bye, which a butchered _au revoir_ and left the shop, her lively air still lingering after her.

-

A few customers later, Harry reemerged from the apartment, his coat, scarf, and hat on him. He stopped in front of Draco, a look of complete dismay on his face.

"It seems like I'm needed by Ralph," Harry said, lifting up a scroll that must have just came via owl. "It seems like there's a problem with the distribution of brooms in the Americas. For some bloody reason, they didn't inform me that I needed to sign a heap load of papers regarding the over-seas distribution. It shouldn't take that long and hopefully I'll be able to dodge a press release if I get there quickly and leave unnoticed." Draco looked at him wordlessly, his eyes turning back to the note in which Harry was holding onto. His hands were trembling slightly, as if he was deeply bothered by something, and it wasn't just some distribution of brooms problem. Draco had learned how to read people a long time ago, and within the past month of knowing Harry both intimately and on an emotional level, he had come to be able to read the man like an open book, exposing all its answers.

But he didn't say anything.

He watched with somber eyes as Harry leaned forward, giving him a passionate kiss as if to transfer his distress into it, and promptly left the shop.

---

Harry shivered, the act of his own betrayal creeping up his back as a slick reminder. He made his way down the street, pausing every so often to look back at the shop as it became smaller and smaller. He lifted the letter that was clenched in his palm. Of course he had not entirely lied to Draco. Yes, he had some things to straighten out with Ralph, but it wasn't something that he needed to leave in order to complete. Ralph had owled him the paper work. It was simply this small scroll in his hand that had prompted him to leave the apartment and shop in order to clear his head.

It was a letter from Ginny.

He had kept in touch her throughout the month but the level of communication that would pass between the two during that time seemed like simple responses to simple questions. Question such as "how are the wedding plans?" and "are the brooms selling well?" were as far as they got. He didn't owl her anymore, just called her with his cellular. It was quick, easy, and harmless. He would lock himself in the bathroom, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and talk quietly to her. It was a way to keep his two worlds apart. To shut himself away. From Her. From Draco. He had to keep them apart for as long as he could.

But as the idea came to him, it quickly fled as paranoia set in. How would he survive it himself? This horrible act, this amount of lies and secrecy? Harry couldn't go back to the shop. At least not now. He didn't know what to do. He needed to clear his mind.

So he went where he had first gone upon his arrival in France. The University. The lake. The magic that surrounded it all. He ran.

Although the University was waking itself up to students who had decided to take winter courses, the courtyard and surrounding areas were empty, save for a few students, and what Harry assumed were magical couples, playing on the frozen lake. Not caring about what was appropriate; Harry sat in the middle of the courtyard, finally laying out on his back, not caring that the coldness of the pavement was sending shockwaves into his body. His hair dropped away from his face and his eyes fluttered close. The winters wind whipped at his uncovered face. He wanted the bites to lick at his flesh, even if it did hurt.

"Il est dangereux, tu sais," said a voice. _It is dangerous, you know?_ Harry, who was trying to drop away from the world was roughly pulled back to Earth.

"Quoi?" Harry asked. He had picked up a handful of things from Draco about the French language. It wasn't much, but at least it was enough to find his way out of a mess if he were to get lost. He looked up to see a beautiful young woman standing above him. He blinked several times, thinking he must have temporarily gone blind. The girl had long flaming red hair that spilled over her shoulders, a bright blue beanie crammed on top of her head. She had a scatter of freckles across her face, and her pink lips were swollen from the bite of the wind. She was wearing simple jeans, boots, and a puffy coat; her hands were crammed into its pockets.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, awestruck.

"Je suis désolé, qui?" _I'm sorry, who? _the girl asked, her face confused. She watched as Harry closed his eyes again and shook his head.

"Excuse me—I've lost my mind," Harry muttered. The red-head smiled.

"It is dangerous," she said, her accent very thick. Harry opened his eyes and looked back up at the girl. "Love is dangerous. Especially love in Paris."

"How do you know how I feel?" Harry asked, almost bitterly, but curious nonetheless. Maybe this girl was a seer of some sorts. He had no time for seers.

"I can tell monsieur. It hurts. And I can see the hurt on your face. It was tempting, and you had to have it. But believe me, monsieur; some things are not worth the pain, the conflict. Choose."

"I don't understand…what do you know?"

"Je sais l y a les jeunes dedans Paris, les jeunes, qui veulent l'amour," the girl responded. _I know there are young people in Paris, young people who want love. _

"But…I…"

"You found it here, oui? Then why are you here, in this courtyard? So pained, and hurting?"

"Because I let it go on too long," Harry cried, feeling an angry ball of emotion bob up and down his throat. He swallowed but couldn't help the tears that spilled across his cheeks. He was confining in this odd French girl, possibly a student at the university, possibly a seer, possibly a figment of his imagination—he didn't know. He didn't wipe the tears away, just laid back as the girl suddenly laid beside Harry, placing her hands on top of her stomach and clasping them together. "I shouldn't have let it go on this long."

"Et pourqoui pas?" _And why not? _

"Because I've fallen in love. I'm in love. I'm in _love_."

The girl smiled. A small, quiet smile as she turned and stared at Harry.

"The first step is admitting it. Now what are you going to do about it?"

---

Harry had reentered the shop much later, the scroll in his coat pocket as he pushed his way through the crowd. After talking to the strange girl in the park, whose name was Sophie; he found that while they lay together on the ground, exchanging small words, the sun seemed to have left with him. He was alone in the dark with this pale girl who he hadn't decided if she was real or not, but had stumbled upon his hurting form. However he was back at the shop, remembering he needed to walk. Remembering he needed to go back.

He calmed himself, and vaguely recognized the song playing in the shop, slightly surprised that a British artist was blaring through the unseen speakers.

_"I've made up my mind,  
Don't need to think it over,  
If I'm wrong I ain't right,  
Don't need to look no further,  
This ain't lust,  
[I know This is love but, _

If I tell the world,  
I'll never say enough,  
Cause it was not said to you,  
And that's exactly what I need to do,  
If I'm in love with you, 

He remembered Ginny dragging him to see the new artist at Bloomsbury Theatre in muggle London. He hadn't realize that there was even music playing inside the café, but as he looked over at the busy counter, he felt his palms begin to sweat, his brow furrowing to express his nervous distress. To alleviate the heat his body was currently experiencing, he removed the jacket he was wearing, wrapping it around his arm. Draco noticed him coming towards him, his face lighting up with excitement as he handed a man his cake. Harry had to tell him what has been on his mind this whole month.

_Should I give up,  
or should I just keep chasing pavements?  
Even if it leads nowhere,  
or would it be a waste?  
Even If I knew my place should I leave it there?  
Should I give up,  
or should I just keep chasing pavements?  
Even if it leads nowhere."_ (4)

"Okay, I can say this," Harry told himself, stepping around the many people in the coffee shop to reach Draco. "I can do this…I can DO THIS…"

"Oh! MY GOD! HARRY!" cried a female's voice from the side.

Harry turned around wildly, looking through the mass of people within the shop. He heard his name again.

"Harry!"

He turned around again and saw Hermione Granger. Her hair was messier than ever, her brown eyes lit up with disbelief and excitement as she looked up at her best friend, who she hadn't seen in a month. She threw her arms around him, squeezing him as hard as she could, Harry believed. He hugged her back with equal force, but couldn't help the icy rush that had overcome him, freezing his veins and making him stiff with fear. Hermione meant England. England meant Ginny. Ginny meant Him, ultimately, ruining their relationship.

"Ginny would be so shocked! I wonder, what are the chances of us meeting at this little unknown place, eh? Oh my, Harry. This is fabulous! Can you believe it? It must be fate!"

Harry nodded dumbly at his friend's bubbling chatter. He turned back around, and saw a look of realization dawning on Draco's face, a shadow of anger, surprise, and regret crossing his face all at once. Harry turned away from him, seeing that Hermione was dragging him over to a small table with a rather gorgeous dark skinned woman, her deep curly hair pulled back into a tight bun, the end puffing out. She was dressed stylishly in a white cashmere sweater and a simple, elegant black skirt. She gave Harry a wonderful smile.

"Harry, this is my publisher, Elise. Elise, this is Harry Potter," Hermione said excitedly. Elise offered a delicate hand to Harry, who didn't know whether to shake it or kiss it. He ended up giving her a soft handshake, while saying the necessary hellos.

"Hermione has told me so much about you. She's also mentioned that you might be interested in writing a memoir?" Elise said, giving Hermione a sideways glance.

"What? When did I suddenly say this?" Harry said. He really wished he had kept his coat on. He needed somewhere to put his hands, which were starting to sweat again.

Hermione laughed, "oh, nonsense Elise! It was merely a suggestion—I mean—he didn't really say it—"

"—but you _should_ think about it, Mr. Potter. It would be wonderful! Imagine the small witches and wizards who would flock to read their hero's story?"

"I'm not a hero, please. Excuse me, but I had a prior engagement that I'm running late to. Perhaps we can catch up later? Hermione? Are you going to be here long?"

Hermione's jovial expression fell, "actually, Harry. I was hoping you would come with me to a couple of clubs? Elise here said there's this one jazz bar we should check out, and the lovely man over there—" Hermione pointed at Draco, "—suggested some underground hip-hop clubs. I was really hoping you'd come!"

"Ah, I'm so sorry, Hermione. Maybe I'll catch you later, if you're sticking around for the next day or two?" Harry questioned, sighing in relief. She hadn't recognized Draco.

"I'll be here for _only _three days," she said briskly. "Some people can't help staying away from their loved ones for such a long time."

"Hermione," Harry groaned. "Please don't say that. I'm here on business. Look, I got Ginny's letter. You tell her I'm _always_ thinking about her, okay?"

"Why don't you tell her yourself? Better yet Harry, why don't you simply hurry with your business and come home? You've been here for more than a month. Your brooms have been set to distribution, based on the Prophet. I don't see why you're not at home."

"HERMIONE," Harry growled. "This is neither the place nor the time to get into a row with you! I miss Ginny, okay? But there are some things I need to finish up here before I can come home. Do you understand?" Harry asked. He gave Hermione a look that spoke to her about his anger and shock at her attitude. She lowered her eyes, noticing her own irrational behavior. She nodded.

"I'm sorry Harry. That wasn't right of me. I shouldn't be arguing with you, especially with a stranger in your presence. It's just…Harry…she misses you. She really _misses _you."

"I know Hermione. I know. Her letter told me."

"It should tell you more than that, Harry. Much more than that."

---

_Beloved Harry, _

_I wish you were here. I know how silly of a start to a letter that sounds, but I feel that if I keep wishing hard enough, you'll come home. I think the hardest for me throughout your departure has been waking up in the morning. I can swear that each night I go to our bed; I tell myself that I'll be okay. That this vast space that we have made our personal space will keep me comfortable and that it will remind me of you. But your scent has lingered from the pillows; the groove that was once created by your shape has disappeared, and has left it so empty. _

_When I wake up in the morning it means that I have survived another night without you and that I was left cold without you here warming me. I'm so nostalgic for your touch, Harry. Just for your scent, the tangles of your hair, and the odd number of freckles that are clustered together on your right shoulder blade. It's all slipping away from me. I'm trying so hard to hold onto this thin thread that's holding you and me together. _

_I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts to breathe. I can't function properly without you. Leaving the apartment in itself is an unbearable task to complete. Hermione and Ron have been there for me, they often invite me to see a movie with them, or to come out to dinner with them, but I always feel like I'm a bother—the third wheel. _

_Please tell me, was it something I did? I know I've been pushing you away. It's my entire fault that you're in Paris, and I'm here. I never wanted you to find me undesirable or incapable, Harry. Everything I do, everything I strive to do, I do for you. I love you. __You're miles away but my heart will always be here, always just for you. I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want you to hurt me, either. Let me come to Paris, Harry. Harry, I want to come to Paris. Please. We belong together. We've been through so much, and we have held each other through the worst of situations. We're a rare entity. Without you, Harry. I'm no one. Just a silly girl who was once in love, a silly girl holding her heart in her hands as the boy of her dreams walks by, oblivious to the girl offering her love. I don't want to be a silly girl anymore. _

_I need you. I'm so sorry. I'm so very, very sorry for loving you like this. _

_All my love, forever and ever, _

_Ginny_

---

After saying his goodbye to Hermione, he had left the shop once more, not being able to face Draco, the apartment, or Hermione's endless questioning. He had "other plans" as he had told her, and now he had to disappear for a while. He simply walked. He walked so much, and focused so much on his feet hitting the pavement that he didn't know it had started snowing. When he became tired, he went back to the shop. It was closed, and only Draco was seen inside, cleaning up the messes people had left. Harry watched him work from a safe distance, so he wouldn't be seen. When the lights were finally out, and Draco had exited up into the apartment, Harry snuck in, knowing the necessary unlocking charms for the shop, since he had moved in with Draco a while ago.

When he had entered the apartment, aware that Draco was probably too tired to do anything but sleep. Harry went into their room, noticing the lump on the bed that was Draco. He had just stripped down to his boxers, seeing that his clothes littered the floor. Harry quickly undressed, and slid into the bed beside Draco. He was quiet for a long time, as he laid on the edge of the bed, far away from Draco.

"What's keeping you so far, Harry?" Draco whispered, trying to pull Harry to his chest. Harry wiggled free, his back turning away from him. Harry cleared his throat.

"Did you recognize Hermione today in the shop?"

"Yes, but at first when she first came in I didn't know it was her. She's changed quite a lot. I don't remember ever seeing Granger wear makeup before. She looked older. I couldn't remember her face from Hogwarts at all too well. It was a pleasant surprise, nonetheless," Draco whispered, wrapping his arms around Harry, thus pulling himself up to spoon behind the raven-haired man. Harry stiffened, but soon found himself relaxing against him. After a few minutes of silence, Draco nuzzled his face into the back of Harry's neck, his breath tickling Harry and stirring arousal.

"I love you Harry. I love you so much." Harry closed his eyes, his heart pounding.

Harry had wished the words had fallen off of his own tongue earlier in the shop, before Hermione had interrupted him. He was a coward. He was a horrible excuse for a man and a horrible excuse for a lover. Had he hesitated for a reason other than to protect his own selfish desires? Had he not said the words so he could capture this moment finally, and run with it like a mad man? Why hadn't he told Draco earlier?

Why hadn't he let him _know_? He was a coward. He was a liar. He couldn't talk. He couldn't respond.

Instead, he turned to face the blonde, drawing him into his arms and kissing him languorously, softly exploring and pouring his pain and conflict into the kiss. He wanted to give this to him. He wanted to give him this pleasure so he wouldn't hate him. So Harry wouldn't hate himself. He wanted to open himself up and give Draco this small pleasure.

So perhaps, Draco will one day find it in his heart to forgive Harry for the hurt he had caused. And will cause him.

* * *

**NOTES: **

(1)Antonio Vivaldi: There's speculation that the poem presented in this chapter was actually written by Vivaldi himself, who was a famous pious composer during the Baroque era. He's most famously known for his "Four Seasons" composition, and while writing this chapter, I myself enjoyed his _Winter_ section of the Four Seasons. The original translation is in Italian, and if you would like the original, please let me know!

(2)Draco's lullaby: Is a French lullaby for Children entitled "Dans le chemin creux de la lande". The translation is as follow:

I hear noise close to the door  
close your eyes my little boy  
the malicious werewolves carry off  
the children who do not sleep.

(3)This is a song entitled "Le belle et le bad boy" "The Beauty and the Bad Boy" by MC Solaar. MC Solaar is a popular French rapper, and the song used in this chapter is one of his most popular songs. I would recommend you all download it, you will not be disappointed. Here are the English translations for the verse I used:

They met back in school

Between a math class and a Spanish class

She was a soccer fan

But he didn't fear balls, it was the goal

Only thing he promised was rides in a Corvette

But for now, he was stealing scooters

Between them there was always complicity

Stop on a pedestal, a clear dream

If he became triangle, she would be rectangle

(4)"Chasing Pavements" by the amazing Adele… She's a British artist who is very new to the music industry. Please check her out.

---

**TEASER FOR NEXT CHAPTER**

_He wanted Harry to remember him exactly like this. He wanted him to see his body, for the image to be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. _

**IMPORTANT NOTE FOR ALL OF YOU: **

I really hope you guys felt that the added bits in this chapter helped it. I wanted it to feel real, and I felt that either setting up an emotion helped better understand the setting/environment. I want to thank you all who gave me extremely encouraging comments about chapter eight. I want you all to know that I write these stories for you, and even though I have taken a break from writing that I will NEVER stop writing this specific story. I will complete it to the very end. Just please bear with me.

Again, constructive criticism is much appreciated, but friendly words are also valued. Hope to hear from all of you. Chapter ten will be up soon!


	10. Chapitre Dix

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_Several years after Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy has found himself at one of the top universities for magic in Paris. While living in a small apartment above a coffee shop, he, on a cold, wintry day, bumps into a one Harry Potter, who is running away from his life in Britain._

**AN: This chapter is purely inspired by James Baldwin. If the "feel" is familiar, that's why. Thank you guys for your lovely comments on Chapter Nine… I know some of you offered to help me with some of my French corrections, thank you so much! Possibly within the next two chapters I'll need some help! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. There are only six more chapters left after this one.**

Love you,

Mlle. P

**-----**

**Chapitre Dix**

"_See, love is __rare__, and can __only__ be found and conquered once. At first, there is passion, angry hunger that bites and tears the heart away, but after a while, that passion morphs into unadulterated love. Make no mistake, there is always pain and hatred to interrupt that flow of undisturbed romance, but it makes love stronger, it makes the couple in name stronger and even hungrier for his partner…"_

_-_Draco, Chapitre Sept

* * *

_February 1, 2007_

The coffee was stale and incredibly bitter on Harry's tongue. The small armchair he currently sat at allowed for him to sink deeply into it and engulf him in its warmness. The note from Ginny was in his cold hands, and he couldn't help but look over at the peacefully resting Draco sprawled on their bed.

_Their bed_

The thought was intimidating, frightening even, that he had fallen in love with a man. He had fallen in love so quickly with Draco Malfoy, not thinking of the precautions, the consequences, the pain. He had cheated on Ginny, he had lied to her numerously, and he had overstayed his visit in France. It was nearing the end of January; he was supposed to be back in Britain weeks ago.

He could tell the note had been written with great patience, eager to please and not upset him. She was silently inquiring his prolonged stay in France, questioning his intention and why he was so strongly for it. She blamed herself. She blamed her love for him; she thought she was suffocating him.

In all honesty, Harry did feel like she was suffocating him. He thought about her often, now especially. Her long, flaming red hair, the tilt of her smile, the feminine shape of her lips, lips he had kissed so many times. Lips he had lied to.

Again, he looked over at Draco.

What would he do? What _could_ he do? What could Draco do if Harry left him?

He had stepped aside from a normal life to indulge in some kind of twisted fantasy—with an enemy.

"_I want to come to France,"_ Ginny had written. She was going to come to get him, to claim him. Maybe he didn't have the heart to tell Ginny that she shouldn't. He was wallowing in his guilt now, allowing for it to consume him whole like a monster. Ever since running into Hermione in the shop, and his little revelation in the courtyard at the University, Harry hadn't been able to see Draco. He hadn't been able to really _see _him like before. The light that illuminated the man before him had been forced to distinguish. The passion…where had the passion gone within himself? It had shrunk behind fear. He had cheated on the woman he dedicated five years of his life to. He needed her. Harry wanted someone he could come home to every day; he wanted someone that would give him babies when the time arrived. He wanted a woman. Draco had been a lapse in judgment. Surely, Draco had been nothing.

Harry never questioned his sexuality, and looking at Draco proved that he had a serious issue he needed to address, or rather, not address. He wasn't gay…he loved women. He never really looked at men before and the fact that he had lost himself in another man scared him. Of course, he had said "oh, he's all right looking" or "he's good-looking" but never did he think of doing the things he did with Draco to another man.

"Harry?"

Draco was awake.

"Hmm?" Harry hummed out. The very air around him seemed to clench at his skin, making it hard for him to breathe. The armchair was in a shady corner in Draco's brightly painted room. It was cornered in between his out-of-the-wall closet, and the wall itself, covering Harry in a shade of darkness created by the closet. He was trapped in this little space, trapped willingly.

"Why are you all the way over there…are you hiding?" Draco asked playfully, his voice still groggy with sleep.

"Of course not," Harry said painfully slow. Draco sat up at his tone, the comforter falling at his waist, exposing his pale chest. The light of the incoming morning sun gave his body an alluring glow that Harry had to pointedly ignore.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Harry answered, slipping Ginny's scroll in to his pocket as discreetly as possible. He had been holding onto it since waking. He knew Draco saw him do it, but Draco did not question him.

"Harry," Draco started, fear flashing across his face. He looked over at Harry expectantly. He knew something was going to happen. "Tell me."

"I'm leaving you, Draco."

------

The pain was unreal. It crumbled him so badly, he curved over in silent pain, his whole body breaking down and deteriorating under those words. "Why?" he gasped out.

Not seeing Harry's half-hidden face made his hands curl around the comforter. He wanted to hit him so bad.

"I need to go back to Ginny. We have a wedding to plan," Harry said quietly. Draco grasped for words to say to Harry. Half of him wanted to hurt Harry with words, similar to what he was receiving. He wanted to throw words around, make Harry feel hopeless and useless also. The other half, the winning half, wanted to plead and beg for him to stay.

"Don't leave me…"

"I have to…you knew I would have to go back one day! You knew that Ginny would want me back."

"Why are you returning to a life you have tried to run away from? Why?" Draco cried. Harry had stood from his chair, still hidden in the dark, to lean against the closet and stare at him. Draco began to shamelessly cry. "Chéri…Mon très cher! Don't leave me…please don't leave me…" Draco whimpered. Harry came to him, wrapping his arms around his shaking form, staring above Draco's head and out the stain-glass window. He was sobbing. His heart was breaking—but in all honesty, it was Harry's heart that was breaking. Draco knew…he _knew_ that something had to have broken in Harry to make him so cold and distant towards him.

"Draco," he heard Harry whisper. "Draco, Draco…" he stilled against Harry's chest, clenching the other man's now-wet shirt. "You knew I'd have to go back to her."

Draco gave a cold, bitter laugh. "Harry," Draco sobbed. "Harry, you're not leaving me for _her_, you're leaving me for some other reason…" Harry shook his head; not wanting to hear what would probably be the truth coming from out of Draco's mouth.

"You're not leaving me for a _woman _Harry. You're not leaving me for that _little girl._"

"She's not a little girl, Draco…She's a woman…and I _love her._"

"YOU DON'T LOVE HER!" Draco screamed, pushing Harry away from him. "You don't love _anyone!_" Harry stood from the bed, stepping away from Draco's burning form on the bed. "You're _afraid _Harry! You're _afraid_ of the stench of love. It's all over you…the love for me is all over you, and it sickens you! It sickens you that I have dirtied your near-perfect hands with my stench, my film of dirt…your _presumed_ virginity and saintliness…You'll never let anyone _touch it_—" Draco released a horrifying moan.

He stood from the bed finally, reaching out and yanking Harry to him. He placed his lips over the raven-haired mans, passion immediately igniting between the two as Harry released all of his pain and sorrow into the kiss. Harry ran a hand down Draco's bare back, making the blonde moan into his mouth. Draco tilted his head back as Harry attacked his lips, sucking on the blonde's lower lip, this tongue flicking the top lip before delving into his mouth. They shivered against one another as the kissed turned into a violent uproar, Draco gripping Harry's shoulders, hard enough to leave bruises behind, and Harry's soft caress turned into him raking his nails down Draco's back. With a hiss, Draco pushed Harry away, a sob escaping his throat once more.

"_I_ am not afraid, Harry." Draco pounded on his chest as tears fell down his cheeks once more. "_I_ am not afraid of our love!" Harry tried to reach for him, the truth nearly killing him, but Draco growled and pushed his hands away, screaming, "No! Look what you've done to me Harry…do you think you could have done this to me if I did not love you? Is this what you should do to love?" Harry backed away again, until his back touched the opposite wall, and he slid down it to land on the floor. He watched as Draco climbed back onto the bed, folding himself into a ball, sobs making his body tremble.

The morning light was finally out, shining brilliantly into Draco's room. Outside, the birds chirped happily and the noise could be heard from within the tiny bedroom. The happiness as noted in these sounds, however, was nothing but unnerving to Harry. The whole room was deathly dark and stunk of deception and anger. The light blinded him. He glanced out the window.

It was a beautiful morning.

-----

Into the second week of February, Jacques tried to open Draco's door one last time, but sighed against it in defeat as once again Draco placed a strong barrier around him. He was so deep into his depression; his magic was turning cold with hatred and pain. Jacques had run into Harry several times, and reprimanded the boy for leaving Draco in such a state. Harry had promised that he would stop by, collect some of his things, and _comfort_ Draco.

When Harry unlocked the door with a powerful counter, the sight in front of him made him recoil. Draco was sprawled on his bed, naked. The sheets were around him, like a puddle of water, keeping him afloat, and he stared aimlessly at the ceiling. A half empty body of some awful-smelling liquor laid uncorked beside him, the neck of the bottle gripped in his pale hands. He was so pale, and his face was gray, his eyes rimmed red from having cried so much. The body that Harry had come to learn so much about glared back at him in the ending sun…Harry was so eager to run over to Draco and beg for forgiveness, to beg for his love once again. But to do so would ruin everything…it would ruin the strength Harry had created to overcome this affair. He went about the room, separating his shoes from Draco's, his pants or shirts from Draco's. It took him about half an hour, and still, Draco lay unmoving on his bed, naked. Harry turned to him, his suitcase in hand as he watched Draco. He now knew why Draco was doing this.

He wanted Harry to remember him exactly like this. He wanted him to see his body, for the image to be burned into his brain for the rest of his life.

"Au revoir, Draco," Harry whispered.

"Au revoir, mon cher…" Draco croaked. His throat sounded torn, as if he had been screaming.

-----

_February 12, 2007_

"HARRY!" she screamed. "HARRY!" she threw herself into his arms, her body collapsing as she fell into his eager arms. Her body was familiar, and immediately Harry hugged her to him, breathing in her scent, and taking in her surroundings. She began to cry as he raked a hand through her flaming red hair. "I've missed you so much! I've missed you so much Harry!" she began to kiss him, and Harry lifted her from the ground, twirling her.

"I've missed you too Gin," Harry whispered, placing her back down. She grabbed him by the hand. "Mum and Dad are here, they've been waiting for you. Hermione and Ron too, and Seamus of course…Neville and his wife Amelia, George and Angelina are here also…they're all waiting for you, we've all been waiting for you." Harry cracked a grin, watching the happy glint dance around in Ginny's piercing eyes. "I've been waiting for you," she whispered.

"Well, I'm here now love," Harry said, kissing her softly on the cheeks. They were in Diagon Alley, where Harry had apparated to from Paris. All his bags had been shrunk and placed into his coat pocket. He kissed her again. The crowded streets of Diagon Alley made him feel at home as he wrapped a comforting arm around Ginny's lithe form as they made their way towards a group of people standing in front of Flourish and Blotts. Hermione was in the middle of the group, waving her hand about wildly as she explained something, causing Neville and George to laugh knowingly. Ron was blushing as he leaned over to see the book Hermione was gesturing at. Angelina was animatedly conversing with Seamus.

"I'm just saying that the book is purely rubbish, and I never should have had it published."

"Leave it to you to critique your own work, Hermione," George chuckled. "You received raving reviews from critics; I don't know why you're complaining."

"I'm not complaining, George, I'm just realizing a mistake I've made. OH HARRY!" Hermione nearly dropped the hardcover book as she saw Harry approach them with Ginny in his arms.

Immediately he was surrounded by friends. They were hugging him, kissing him, asking him about France. Harry smiled.

"I will tell you all about it, but how about over a cup of coffee?"

"_Coffee?_ Who the hell drinks _coffee_?" Ron asked. Harry chuckled.

"Something I picked up in France! But I would like some coffee, but if not, tea will be fine."

"Did you bring me back a pretty dress?" Ginny asked teasingly, as they made their way toa teashop.

"Of course I did," Harry said, pulling her closer. Seamus clapped him on his back and smiled apologetically. Ginny stood up straighter as she watched Seamus stand in front of Harry. Her eyes narrowed.

"Honestly, Seamus, the coach-updates can wait until _later,"_ she said rather quickly. Seamus smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"You're right, Ginny. I think I'll just be off Harry. I'm not feeling too well."

"What? Are you sure? Do you need for one of us to see you off all right?" Harry asked concerned. Ginny shook her head before Seamus could answer.

"Oh, Seamus, you'll be all right on your own! We'll see you later, okay?" Ginny asked with a wide, strained smile. Harry turned to her with surprise written on his face. Ginny was being particularly rude to Seamus.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll see you later." And with that, he walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

Ginny frowned. "He's been in the slumps lately; I think he broke up with someone…" she trailed off, biting her lower lip. "I didn't want him to rain on our parade, honey. This is your time to relax, not stress out about your friends." She brought the hand that was clasped in hers up to her lips, where she kissed it, leaving behind a red mark from her lipstick. Harry smiled, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but think of Draco, holding his hand, which he would do all the time when they were together.

"I love you Ginny."

"I love you too Harry." She grinned and pulled him along the street to catch up with the rest of their friends. He was home.

* * *

**TEASER FOR CHAPTER 11:**

"_Damien!" Draco cried, dropping his books. Dorian swiftly gathered the fallen books from the floor and pressed them into Draco's chest._

"_Draco…you're looking quite well…" Dorian said playfully. Draco was taken aback by his sign of kindness, but did not shy away from it. He shrugged gracefully. _

"_I've been better," Draco said hastily. Dorian smiled._

"_Why don't you tell me all about it over a cup of coffee, oui?"_

_

* * *

_

**AN: **Please leave a response, I'd appreciate it. I'm really going to strive to finish this story in the next week or so, so be looking for frequent updates.


	11. Chapitre Onze

Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only

* * *

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris above a small café._

* * *

**IMPORTANT!!: The Teaser that was in chapter ten is INCORRECT. I am so sorry that I let that slip in there! You won't see that scene until chapter 12! Again, sorry, and I hope I didn't spoil too much…oh hell…I think I did!**

**On with the story—**

**Love,**

**Mlle. P**

**--**

**Chapitre Onze**

"_All this I swallow, it tastes good, I like it well, it becomes mine,_

_I am the man, I suffered, I was there.__"_

_--Walt Whitman_

* * *

**February 14, 2007**

Harry sighed in her hair, her body trembling softly under his as he kissed the side of her neck, gently caressing her bare arm as she slowly brought it to wrap around his neck. She ran her foot down the length of the back of his bare leg, bringing it upward to hook about his waist as he exposed his teeth to tenderly nibble at her neck.

The sheets were twisted around their naked bodies as they made love for the third time that early morning. She purred softly as she stretched upward, meeting his thrusts. She unfolded her hold around his neck, instead running her hands down his damp back, feeling the tight ripple of muscles under her fingers.

Harry finally reached her lips. They were soft and bitten as he attacked them fiercely, he breathed heavily through his nostrils. Ginny looked up at him as he detached his mouth from hers, pulling himself up by his hands as he made long, strong strides. His eyes were closed tightly, as if his mind were elsewhere, far away from their bedroom. She laid there, motionless, just watching the muscles in his face contract. Slowly, she lifted her hands to touch his face, one hand on each slender cheek. His eyes fluttered open in a start and he blinked.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice not wavering once. It was almost as if a flicker of pain and fear went through Harry's eyes, but was covered by this jovial smile.

"Everything is just perfect," he said, lowering himself back onto his elbows as he kissed her tenderly on the lips. The kiss deepened and Ginny finally felt a cluster of pleasure begin to build in her belly, exclaiming her desire for climax. She looked up at him again, and realized with distaste that his eyes were closed once more. Suddenly, she felt Harry wrap his hand around the curve of her shoulder as he pulled out of her. He pushed himself up on his knees, causing her to pull her legs up, nearly to her chest as he flipped her over, her knees tucked under her and her face crushed into the sheets. Harry placed his hands on either side of her hips and swiftly entered her again, without a moment's hesitation.

--

Breakfast was nearly over when Harry woke with a start from a deep slumber. He opened one pearly green eye to see a fuzzy Ginny open the window to their flat, holding a letter out to a small brown fuzz, no doubt an owl.

"I don't need a response," she said softly, patting the owl's head. It must've been a house-trained owl, Harry thought, realizing that most standard-use owls were rude, snappy, and hostile.

He watched as she closed the window, the owl taking flight. She exited the room, and not too long after returned with a tray in hand, tea, biscuits and sugar on it.

He decided to show that he was awake, searching for his glasses on the nightstand. The blur that was his fiancé came into focus. She was dressed in a long white shirt that belonged to Harry, the length of it coming mid-thigh. She smiled raunchily at him, finally realizing that he was awake.

"Good morning lover," she cooed, placing the tray on a small round table that was in front of the large window in their room. She ran to the bed, throwing herself on top of Harry with a loud _oomph! _She giggled wildly, her red hair falling around them like a curtain as she leaned in to kiss him on the lips. Harry wrapped his arms around her as she rubbed her nose against his, a smile gracing her red lips. "Happy Valentine's Day, Harry," she whispered, kissing his lips again.

"As to you," Harry said against their kiss. He glanced down at her attire and grinned. "I was wondering where my shirt went."

"Ah, I put it to good use…" she responded with a cheery voice. "Better it on me than wrinkling up on the floor!"

"And it looks much, much better on you than on the floor also," he said, kissing her on the cheek. She slid off the bed, quickly heading to the table where the tray sat, a lazy steam filtering off the teapot. Harry cleared his throat as she poured a small amount into a cup. "Who were you owling?" he asked. He watched as Ginny placed the pot down to turn and smile at him.

"Mum…She just wanted to know what I used to make the casserole last night—I guess it was fabulous. I just sent her the answer…No need for a response!" Ginny giggled and shrugged lazily. The shirt she wore slid gently down one bare shoulder, making her blush deeply under Harry's stare. "I made tea," she piped up.

"Lovely," Harry said, stretching as Ginny made her way back to the bed to lie beside him.

"I love you," she whispered. Harry nodded.

"I love you too."

**MARCH 1, 2007**

"I personally like whip, but if the butter crème is popular this year…"

"But Ginny, I don't understand—the butter crème is 600 galleons more than the whip, and you _like_ whip!"

"Harry, it has to be MATCHING. I don't want to have a beautiful dress and an ugly wedding cake. It's just wrong."

"If I may interject Mr. Potter—" said a voice. The wedding planner, a small, thin man with an annoying lisp and hands that moved frivolously when talking interrupted Harry's train of thought. "It's THE wedding of the year and a man with your _wealth_ and power shouldn't fret over 600 galleons. This is your DREAM wedding, and the Wizarding world wants in on it as well…"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Harry barked and then turned sharply to Ginny. "Is he the one who's been leaking stories about our wedding to the Prophet?"

"Harry, Dear! Of course he's not! Right Lenore?" Ginny asked. The wedding planner gasped.

"I would never; I am your most loyal employee, Mrs. Potter." The wedding planner tried to shove the binder of wedding cakes onto Harry's lap, but it ended up falling to the ground as Harry stood.

The anger and frustration over this whole wedding had peaked. Harry felt the words bubbling up his throat as he stared down at this flamboyant man and his irritating fiancé. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. This _wedding_ was ridiculous.

"I—" Harry started in. But he stopped. His voice died in his throat as he glanced down at his future wife, her face round and her eyes full of fear. He suddenly thought of Draco in that moment. He thought about the pain that had overcome his grey eyes as Harry told him he had to leave. He couldn't cause that same pain to the woman he had betrayed so deeply and promised to marry. He cleared his throat and the stormy expression in his eyes vanished. "Whatever you want," he said dejectedly, sitting back in his seat.

Lenore clapped his hands loudly and grabbed the fallen book from the ground to push into Ginny's hands. "Butter crème it is…" he said happily.

--

The sun was just starting to set when Harry decided to sit outside of his and Ginny's London flat. The weather was perfect and the streets were busy and loud. With his hands shoved down the pockets of his trousers, Harry sat on the steps as he swallowed in the city.

It was quite different from Paris, extremely different, actually. _He_ was different in London. As he watched on, the busy street started to flood with rush-hour frenzy. A young woman caught his eye in her bright yellow Mini, the top of the car pulled back as her long thick, wavy black hair blew in the cool breeze along with the music playing at full volume from her car.

_I can still feel the breeze that rustles through the trees  
and misty memories of days gone by  
We could never see tomorrow, no one said a word about the sorrow_

_And how can you mend a broken heart?  
How can you stop the rain from falling down?  
(Tell me) How can you stop the sun from shining?  
What makes the world go round?  
How can you mend this broken man?  
How can a loser ever win?  
(Somebody) Please help me mend my broken heart _

_And let me live again…_

Harry bobbed his head softly as the music drifted from the young woman's car as she drove pass the flat. He sighed deeply as he wondered the same questions over and over in his own head. He was deeply unhappy. He was missing something. And that something was Draco.

The pale, broken face of Draco crossed Harry's mind as he closed his eyes in silent reflection. The man he had once hated penetrated his mind every single day. He couldn't even make love to Ginny without thinking about Draco. When his hands searched her naked body, he couldn't help but bite back a groan of displeasure to feel the soft curves of her body under his callous hands. He had to be gentle with her. He had to pretend that he was enjoying making love to her when in all actuality every stride he made chipped a little bit away from his heart.

"Harry?" called Ginny. Harry looked up from the porch to see Ginny leaning gently over the banister peering down at his miserable form. "I'm nearly done with dinner, love!"

"I'll be right there," Harry answered Ginny's smiling form. Thinking about all he could lose because of his broken heart, Harry took a deep breath and went back into the flat.

**March 20, 2007**

It was closing in to midnight when Ginny entered the sitting room dressed in a scandalously short and tight black halter-top dress. Her hair was flowing down her back and her exposed chest and pleasantly sized breasts twinkled, as if she had sparkled glitter on her. She wore strappy heels and was clenching a small clutch bag. "Harry…you're ready already?"

Harry sighed heavily and glanced at his watch, "Gin, you've been getting ready for almost an hour. We're keeping everyone waiting."

"Let them wait!" she snapped. "This is _our_ night. We're having this party for us…this is supposed to be a fun night!"

"This isn't even the rehearsal dinner…I don't know what this is…a random party?"

"No! It's the day you proposed to me, remember?" Ginny asked, turning around with shock in her eyes. "Five years ago, you stood before me and asked me to be your _wife_ Harry. How could you forget?" She slowly made her way over to Harry, sitting beside him as he sighed.

"I didn't forget Gin. It's just been a busy month, my mind is completely frazzled." He looked up from his folded hands to see Ginny peering at him thoughtfully.

"Harry…I need you to be completely honest with me…I need you to tell me the truth. I promise you, it won't affect what we have going, but I need you to tell me _the truth._"

Harry tensed beside her as the felt the answer already coming up his throat. Yes. He had cheated on her. And Yes. He still wanted Draco.

"Do you think the wedding is too lavish? Honestly Harry, I know that you've been a little hesitant with a few of the plans and that you put up with silly old me because you love me," she nudged him playfully as she waited for his response. Her bright smile made him quiver with guilt in his stomach. Leaning over, he wrapped an arm around her smooth shoulders and squeezed her.

"I do love you," he said. "And I want you to be happy," he said. _Even if that makes me unhappy_, he thought quietly to himself.

--

They finally made it to the trendy London restaurant that the private party was being held at. Harry was quite a fan of muggle living, and enjoyed the environment very much. He was happy when Ginny told him that this party would be held at this particular restaurant.

Hermione stood at the entrance of the restaurant, her face brimming with excitement. "Oh! Finally you guys are here! The party is in full swing, and—oh my! I just can't help it!" she giggled. "I promised Ron I would wait until after you two were situated inside the restaurant but—oh! Look!" With a burst of laughter, Hermione lifted her left hand and swung it up into Harry's face. On her wedding finger was a large, white diamond, cut in a rectangular fashion on a thin silver band. "He finally popped the question!"

"Hermione!" Harry grinned, throwing his arms around his best friend. "That's fantastic! I didn't even know…Ron didn't tell me…" Harry trailed off, thinking why Ron might've not told him. They hadn't really spoken to each other in depth since his return from France. "Congratulations, I knew you two would get engaged sooner or later…"

"I know! And with all that talk about me waiting for the two of us to get on our feet…well, the time has come and I'm ready to settle down and get married." Hermione turned to Ginny, expecting a large hug. To her dismay, Ginny was standing with her arms crossed against her chest with a sour look on her face.

"Spoiling my night, Hermione?" she snapped. Hermione flinched, as did Harry. "You couldn't wait for us to get into the restaurant to tell us about you and my brother? Better yet, you shouldn't have mentioned it at all! No one cares right now...It's Harry and me who are getting married in two weeks, not you and Ron. I can't believe you would do this…this was so careless of you."

"Ginny!" Harry said, aghast. "This is a wonderful night for all of us. How could you say that to Hermione?"

Hermione took a step back from the fiery redhead and shook her head. "I'm sorry Ginny. I should have waited."

"Hermione! Don't apologize to her—" before Harry could say anything more, Hermione entered the restaurant, leaving the two standing beside each other. Harry turned to Ginny, a mixed look of shock and disgust on his face. "How could you do that? Hermione just got _engaged_ and wanted to share that with us. That was incredibly rude of you to do Ginny."

"I don't care Harry! She's trying to steal our night and make this about her! Hermione _always_ does that, and you know it!"

"SHE DOES NOT!" Harry bellowed, making Ginny jump. "How RUDE of you to do that! I couldn't believe the shit coming out of your mouth! You sounded like a bratty child!"

"I'm not a child nor did I sound like one! What the _hell_ has been wrong with you? Ever since you've gotten back from France you've been a completely different person!" she cried. "Please Harry! Please tell me what's wrong! I just need to know!" Ginny pleaded. Harry closed his eyes, feeling an onset of confessions crawling up his throat. He wanted to tell her that he didn't love her anymore. That he didn't want her. That he didn't want this wedding. Before he could say anything, he turned away; ready to walk away from the restaurant, but Ginny threw her arms around Harry's arm, pulling him back.

"Don't do this!"

"Let go."

"You're breaking me Harry," she whimpered. "What did you _do?_" her voice was full of accusation. He spun around to look into her deep eyes brimming with tears. "What did you do when you were in France?" He shook his head, placing his hand over hers and wrenching her grip from his arm. "Tell me what you see when you look at me!" she wrapped her arms around her shaking body and looked up at him with a terrible hurt that made Harry turn inside out. "I see how you look at me, and you're not there Harry! So tell me! Tell me what you see when you look at me and tell me that you love me?"

"Absolutely nothing," he said quietly. With that, he walked away from her. He heard her start to cry, calling out for him, but he took off into a run.

--

_I questioned whether or not I should write to you. In the end, the hopelessly pathetic part of me won. My own fear prevented me from writing to you sooner, and I honestly feel like a beaten dog. Draco, I will NEVER forgive myself for the pain I put you through. I'm disgusted by my selfish actions and I know that you will never forget what I did to you. I'm so sorry. _

_But from the bottom of my tortured soul, I'm asking you to forgive me Draco. I'm in love with you. I think I've always been in love with you, but was afraid to admit it. I know now more than ever that we belong together. I would give up my entire world for you. It took me a while to figure this out, but Draco, I am breathlessly, uncontrollably, ruthlessly in love with you. _

_I'm asking for a second chance—another shot with you. _

_Yours truly,_

_Harry_

-

"Thanks for letting me stay over Ron, honestly. I didn't want you and Hermione arguing over me sleeping in the spare. I don't want to rain on your sunshine."

"It's quite okay Harry. These kinds of things happen. I'm sure you would take me in if Hermione and I got into a spat…" Ron chuckled, a thoughtful look on his face, "Actually, I would probably have dragged myself to my knees and begged for forgiveness. I told myself a long time ago that Hermione is _always_ right. Makes things easier," Ron said with a large grin. They sat together at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and drinking tea as they waited for Hermione to finish getting ready for work. When she finally came into the kitchen, her wild brown curls were pulled up into a tight, elegant bun, a clean quill pushed into it. Her white Healers robe covered the pinstripe skirt and black blouse she had underneath it and her black heels clicked the ground with a sense of authority as she smiled at Ron, gently taking his tea cup from him and taking a sip. She then leaned forward and kissed his upturned lips.

"Good morning love," she said. She then turned to Harry. "Morning Harry…any luck with Ginny?"

"None. I refuse to pick up her calls."

"How catty," Ron snorted. "Harry, she is my baby sister—"

Harry sighed. "I know Ron, but I just need some time is all."

"I think what Harry is doing is healthy. It's better to take some time aside and think things over. I'm sure you're not going to call off the wedding, are you Harry?" she asked. Harry stared down into his teacup, his mind racing. He really wanted to call that stupid wedding off, but didn't want to risk hurting the Weasley's.

"No."

--

Harry opened the door to the single bathroom that was attached to the guest bedroom he was currently staying at, locking it behind him. Ron had finally decided to go to work, leaving him alone in their flat. He had watched a little bit of the telly, read some of Hermione's recently published book, and had taken a shower. It was when he was scavenging through their fridge did he hear a faint tapping on the window of the sitting room. There, hovering in the air was Draco's owl. Immediately he had let the small creature in, taking the letter off of its leg with care and feeding it an owl treat. He escaped to a closed area—the bathroom. As he ripped open the mail, his hands began to shake as he read the short response on the paper. With each word comprehending in his head, did his heart beat so painfully against his ribcage.

The letter in his hands fell to the floor on the colorful tile beneath his feet as his body shook with sobs. He removed his glasses as the tears began to flow down his cheeks, his hands trembling as he did so.

Draco had said _no._ The carefully written words still burned heavily in his mind. It had been such a definite response. It held no traces of the Draco he had fallen in love with in Paris. It was a cold man who was righting the wrong that had been committed against him.

Harry's heart was breaking as he slid down to the ground against the heavy oak of the door.

Everything he had loved he had lost.

-

_As much as your apology means to me, I cannot accept your offer. The hurt you have installed in me can never be forgiven. I gave myself to you and you abused it. Without a care you returned to Britain leaving me to start over. As with any breakup, things are messy and unsure. But I am sure of __**this**__. Please do not contact me in the future._

_Draco_

* * *

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME MONTHS TO UPDATE! School has been a pain in the ass, but I'm finally done for now and this story will definitely get done before I head back! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please comment, and take note of the teaser-error. It's for chapter 12!

--Mlle. P


	12. Chapitre Douze

Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris above a small café._

_**IMPORTANT!! Authoress Note:**_Here's Chapter twelve! I hope you all enjoy it and leave me your thoughts. I want to say thanks to **ALL** my comments from chapter eleven, and I'm excited to soon be uploading chapter thirteen. I feel that it's wonderfully written (my friends have read it already and LOVE it) and is dynamic, only second to chapter ten. That will be coming to you all soon! It sort of saddens me to know that this story is coming to close, about two-three chapters** left! **I don't know if there will be an epilogue or not. I've played around with the idea, but we'll see! I apologize for any errors I may have in this chapter--it's five in the morning, and I don't know if I can fully comprehend at the moment.

**--CHAPTER THIRTEEN WILL BE POSTED ON FRIDAY MAY 3OTH. **

**I promise you all there WILL be a chapter posted, so please visit this story again on that day! Thank you, and love you, **

**Mlle. P--**

* * *

**Chapitre ****Douze**

_Though I battled blind,  
Love is a fate resigned  
Memories mar my mind,  
Love it is a fate resigned_

_Over futile odds,  
And laughed at by the Gods  
And now the final frame,  
Love is a losing game_

--Love is a Losing Game, Amy Winehouse

**March 1, 2007**

A cigarette dangled loosely from his fingers as he clenched his fist around it to bring it to his pale pink lips, where he drew in deeply, allowing it to stain his lungs with nicotine. The circles under his eyes had left somewhat, becoming just a reminder of his pain rather than a current issue. The recovering process had been incredibly slow and endangering for him. With no appetite for life, he had buried himself in his bed, liquor becoming a fast best friend. His body had lost its leanness and his heart had followed the tempo of his surroundings—slow and gloomy.

But here he was, standing outside of a bar in Paris. His eyes were watery from the wind and his own despair. After having too many vodka tonics at this racy bar not too far from the Seine, he had decided it was time to stumble back to his apartment. The alcohol created this heavy pressure on his head as he felt his eyesight narrow to focus on the streets that stretched out in front of him. He was dizzy, so dizzy that he could barely walk straight. He yearned for the softness of his bed, sleep being his inevitable calling at the moment. The cigarette he was smoking was his last one, having smoked the entire pack earlier in the day, and he couldn't help but feel sad at this notion. Long gone were the slippery streets that had swept through Paris, reminding him of a man who had almost as quickly came and left as the winter season. It was warm, and he had chosen a thin black cardigan to wear over dirty jeans. His blonde hair was in need of a cut, but alas, he was a lost man. A man forgotten.

When Harry had left, Draco had forgotten how to breathe. There was nothing that he did that didn't remind him of Harry. Everything, in this apartment and outside of his apartment, reminded him of the man. He shook with silent anger as he stumbled down the street. This was someone who had _stolen_ his heart. He had absolutely hated the man, and then he had come, so gallant and handsome, into his life. He had forgotten their childish past—and for what? To be angrily reminded of it later? Yes, Draco was a forgotten man indeed.

He often thought about what Harry was doing. Was he making sweet love to his wife? Was he sitting back and picking out their cake for the wedding? Were they holding hands over a candle-lit dinner for two? He didn't know and the scenarios drove him up the wall with jealousy. He was _so angry._

The bar glinted behind his shoulder as he walked away, as if tempting him to come back and spend more money on cheap wine and even cheaper men. He was a broken man more so than a forgotten man. Draco was so severely cut in half by what Harry had done to him. He could understand when the relationship had made a sharp turn straight to hell. He had tried to think back on it, coming up with a conclusion that it must have been Granger's arrival to prompt his cold-feet reaction. Draco's darkest fear, however, was that Harry woke up one morning and realized that he was falling in love with DRACO MALFOY. The man who was once a boy that wished death on him every day. Maybe, he thought, Harry was suddenly repulsed by him.

He shuddered, a wind sweeping pass him and ruffling his hair. It reminded him of a caress, a caress that he would often get from Harry, followed by a kiss. He closed his eyes, and all he could see were round, green orbs, a rush of breath on his pale lips, reminding him of the kiss.

Draco found his way back to the café, his heart trembling in his chest as he quietly undid the charms to enter. He entered the empty establishment, the little amount of lighting outside pouring into the large glass windows creating a shadow across the tables and chairs. He redid the charms and went to the back of the shop towards the staircase to go up to his apartment. He immediately fell on the couch—the couch he and Harry had shared their first time one. Startled, Draco raised a hand and touched his cheek.

He had been crying all this time.

--

**March 5, 2007**

He had to drag himself to class.

It was undeniably unavoidable.

As he stood in front of his mirror, fogging over due to the steam in the bathroom, he looked over his wet form. He had finally taken a pair of scissors and trimmed his hair. Malfoy's weren't ones to grow facial hair, so Draco didn't have to address such a dilemma. He took the towel that was draped around his shoulders and covered his dripping hair with it, searching the bathroom for his wand. After retrieving it, he did a simple drying spell to speed up the process of getting dressed. He was nearly running late for class, and he had yet to pack up the vials for his Potions finale. Upon entering his room, with a fluid motion of his wand, his wardrobe closet had opened, and a pair of black jeans and a pale blue cardigan flew out.

Throwing on his boxers and undershirt, Draco finished dressing by pulling on the rest of his clothes from the wardrobe and flew down the hall from his bedroom into the kitchen, sliding against the floor in his socks. His cauldron was bubbling, as if reminding him that he himself was about to overflow with heated frustration. He pulled out some vials and poured his concoction into them, sealing them up and placing them in a case to safely be carried in.

Finding his back pack, his shoes, wallet, and spare ballpoint pen, Draco made a quick stop over to his bookcase, grabbing the five books he would need today. Without a second glance, he was out the door and shooting down the staircase and out the shop, sparing Jacques a wholehearted wave.

He could simply see his Professor's face, downright mean and pissed if he showed up late. He took off into a run, dodging people on the street who glared at his running form as he headed towards the campus, books in hand. His lungs were tightening in exertion, when he had finally reached the front of the campus, students lounging about and speaking in rapid tones to their friends before class. He couldn't help but smile at the people around him; he turned to look at the lake, which was not frozen anymore, but glistening in anticipation for the spring season. Draco was so caught up in the sparkling body of water that he ran into someone. With an _oomph!_, Draco was pushed back, and brought his full attention to the person in front of him, struggling to keep all his books together in his arms without any luck.

"Damien!" Draco cried, dropping his books. Dorian swiftly gathered the fallen books from the floor and pressed them into Draco's chest.

"Draco…you're looking quite well…" Dorian said playfully. Draco was taken aback by his sign of kindness, but did not shy away from it. He shrugged gracefully.

"I've been better," Draco said hastily. Dorian smiled.

"Why don't you tell me all about it over a cup of coffee, oui?"

Draco opened his mouth, in shock. He closed it quickly, feeling like a gaping fish. He shook his head, "Non—I'm late for class—"

"Ah, yes…Potions. Then perhaps after class?" Damien asked, flashing his perfect, straight white teeth behind perfect, plump pink lips. Draco frowned at him.

"I would have to say no to that as well. I can't possibly see myself having coffee with the man who tried to destroy my self-esteem. Damn you to hell Damien," Draco said crossly. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do, but I don't want to be involved…Now please, I have to go." Draco sidestepped the older man, heading into the school with his chin up, projecting a faux sense that he was in complete control. He could tell that Dorian was staring after him.

He made it to the third floor, and was entering the classroom when the students inside turned to stare at his intruding form. He heard someone stifle a giggle, and another person whisper _bête noire _under their breath.

"Monsieur Malfoy—" came the condescending tone of his Potions Master, who was standing in the front of class.

"Pardon, je suis désolé," Draco muttered, taking a seat in the back. The Professor fixed him with an exhausted stare, and then continued the lesson.

-

Draco couldn't have been happier when lunch time had come round. He literally leaped out of his chair before heading to the cafeteria, his professor giving him a disapproving stare, yet satisfied with the potion he had been extensively working on and presented in class. Draco was, after all, the professor's best student. He took his lunch outside, beside the lake. Sitting on the edge, Draco sat his books down, and the food he had purchased sitting his lap. The water gushed and splattered, and Draco closed his eyes, feeling the sun warm the outside of his eyelids, the inside turning a pale orange. He sighed deeply, enjoying the warm air that seemed to be breathed on him by the lake itself. With a smile, he opened his eyes again, getting ready to unravel the sandwich before him when he was approached by someone. It was Dorian.

Draco's eyebrows furrowed in anger, but before he could say anything biting, Dorian had opened his mouth. "S'il vous plait, Draco…hear me out…"

"Why should I?" Draco nearly shouted. "You destroyed our five years worth of a relationship…you refused to SPEAK to me about ANY of our problems, and in the end, you broke up with me for reasons left still unknown! So tell me, Dorian, tell me why I should listen!"

"Because of that, Draco! Because of the five years we spent together," Dorian was coming closer now, but halted his advances as he saw the territorial look Draco was possessing at the moment. "I made a mistake…I made a very LARGE mistake Draco and I'm plagued with regret every day. Today has been the first time I've seen you in ages. I've wanted to speak with you so badly."

"If it was so bad, then why didn't you stop off at the café? You know where I live…" Draco said with a sneer.

"I saw you with someone…the day after we broke up; actually…you were all dressed up. I couldn't get a good look at him, but I saw that you two had linked arms, and _merde,_ I was mad. I thought you had been cheating on me with him all this time. But even so, Draco, I've been wanting you back since the minute those hateful words came from my mouth. I love you Draco."

Draco allowed for the information to soak into his mind. He thought back quickly, and realized that Dorian had seen him out on his date with the young Englishman Matthew. He groaned in confusion, placing his hand on his forehead as he recalled the unfortunate date. He felt Dorian sit beside him.

"I love you Draco, and I think I love you more than the last time I was this close to you," Dorian pulled Draco's hand away from his face, and curled his fingers around his. "I don't care what you did with that guy, or with any other guys, I just care about _you._ I love you," he repeated, waiting for Draco to say those words back. But he just couldn't. The words would not come from Draco's mouth because he was in love with Harry, he was still in love with the great fool—_Draco_ was indeed a fool.

"You called me _heartless_ Dorian. How can I show you that I love you if I'm _heartless?" _Draco taunted, striking a chord with Dorian. The other man grew pale and sad.

"I was being an idiot Draco. I was scared…I was scared of how much I felt for you. Instead of addressing it, I ran from it. I thought it was too late, but I've caught you today, all alone, and hurt—"

"Hurt?" Draco asked. "How do you fathom that?"

"I dated you for _five years_ Draco. Don't you think I can see when you're hurt?"

"No," Draco said angrily, glaring down at his sandwich. "You left me. If you knew me so well, you would have known how much I loved you at the time. And now? Now I'm hurt." Draco closed his eyes, willing himself not to think about Harry, and not to cry. "I'm hurt by you and by everything else that has interrupted my despicable life." He couldn't stop, the tears were squeezing their way out and he humiliatingly had to endure it. "What the hell is love anyways? If it is so grand and important, then why is it so disposable? I thought love was meant to be permanent! This is what I've preached and praised! This is what was MEANT to happen! Love was meant to be here and present and understandingly easy. Instead, it is a fucking maze of horrible creatures and obstacles that one has to be ready to fight for! I would fight for that love, but I am a lost cause because the person I am fighting for no longer loves me—he—he no longer wants me," Draco sobbed, his body shaking. Dorian drew Draco into his arms, hushing him, believing that his rant had been about _him_. "I was in love with him—I gave him my heart, my body, _my soul_ and he didn't want me…"

"I'm so sorry mon cher…I'm so sorry I hurt you like this," Dorian kissed the top of Draco's head. "Please forgive me…please…" Draco wrapped his arms around Dorian's torso, his face crushing into his toned chest as he cried. After a few minutes, Dorian lifted Draco's head and brought his mouth down onto Draco's tearstained lips. They kissed tenderly at first, but it grew hungrier as they reconnected with one another, a passion that was once gone was reignited, and Draco couldn't stop drinking from the forgotten taste of Dorian. Draco gripped Dorian's hair in his hands, trying to pour his pain into the other man, believing he would somehow be relieved of his aches.

--

**MARCH 24, 2007**

It was a Saturday morning when Draco heard a tapping at his window. He was in the kitchen fixing a cup of coffee for Dorian when he was startled by the persistent tap. Not wanting the creature to wake Dorian, Draco placed a silencing charm on the room, quickly heading towards the window and throwing it open, allowing the exhausted owl into the room.

"You poor creature, where have you traveled from?" soon his question was answered as he saw the script on the envelop. _Harry._

Harry. Harry had written to him. Harry had sent him a letter! He felt his insides jump with fear at what was within the thin outside casing. He took it from the owl, petting the domesticated creature on its head. Perhaps it was an invite to his wedding? Draco thought angrily. He didn't want to go to the man's stupid, diabolical wedding. Draco noticed that the owl was not taking off and actually was waiting for a response.

Curiosity peaked, without further hesitation, he opened it.

_I questioned whether or not I should write to you. In the end, the hopelessly pathetic part of me won. My own fear prevented me from writing to you sooner, and I honestly feel like a beaten dog. Draco, I will NEVER forgive myself for the pain I put you through. I'm disgusted by my selfish actions and I know that you will never forget what I did to you. I'm so sorry. _

_But from the bottom of my tortured soul, I'm asking you to forgive me Draco. I'm in love with you. I think I've always been in love with you, but was afraid to admit it. I know now more than ever that we belong together. I would give up my entire world for you. It took me a while to figure this out, but Draco, I am breathlessly, uncontrollably, ruthlessly in love with you. _

_I'm asking for a second chance—another shot with you. _

_Yours truly,_

_Harry_

Draco felt as if his heart was about to explode. He wanted him! He was ashamed of his actions and wanted him back! He was IN LOVE with him!

He scurried for a piece of parchment and a pen, ready to write back to him.

_Harry,_ he started.

_I love you too—I miss you so much. You have no idea how much this letter means to me. I knew that our love was strong and that it wasn't all just temporary. I knew we belonged together._

He stopped writing. Something in him had turned off. Rereading his letter, Draco didn't know whether to be elated still or disgusted. He was still very much in love with Harry. There was no way to forget him. But in the other room was another lover, a longer lover. Someone who had been with him for five years…someone he could be with forever.

Harry left him to get married to a viperous woman who he didn't love. He left him for an empty relationship just to please others. _If I was so important to him_, he thought, _then why leave?_ He had asked the same thing to Dorian, but Dorian had come looking for Draco, owning up to his mistakes, but believed Draco had moved on. The day after their breakup, Dorian had tried to come back with his tail between his legs. But Harry? Harry had waited two months to try to communicate with him.

Why? Was his wedding too much? Did he want to have him AND the she-weasel at the same time? Would he become his weekend whore while he had a wife and child at home? Draco couldn't help the ludicrous questions and scenarios from popping up into his already debauched brain. He concluded that Harry was _selfish_. He was selfish to have come and swooped into his life once again to muck it all up. He could barely have time to heal without the boy-now-turned-man Wonder flying in to claim what was unrightfully his.

Draco tore up the old parchment, tossing it in the rubbish bin and pulled out a new piece of parchment from a spare cabinet. He sat down at the table again, and started to write.

_As much as your apology means to me, I cannot accept your offer. The hurt you have installed in me can never be forgiven. I gave myself to you and you abused it. Without a care you returned to Britain leaving me to start over. As with any breakup, things are messy and unsure. But I am sure of __**this**__. Please do not contact me in the future._

Draco was sobbing as he signed the letter. It was cold and short but it was appropriate. He loved Harry, he did. But loving him still would be the end of Draco.

Draco gave the owl the letter, petted it on its head and then allowed for it to take off. He undid the silencing charm, and not too long later was graced by Dorian's sleepy presence. The man wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, pulling him close and kissing him languidly.

Closing his eyes and kissing the man back, Draco felt his brain reeling. He would regret this.

* * *

**PLEASE LEAVE YOUR THOUGHTS:**

**TEASER FOR CHAPTER 13:**

_"Behind closed doors, we're far from perfect. We both have our secrets, don't we? We both know we're not what we used to be. I don't want people looking in from outside to see our flaws, Ginny."_


	13. Chapitre Treize

The smell of sweat was strong…too strong for Harry, actually

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY: **_It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris above a small café._

**AN: **Thank you to _**ALL**_ the reviews I got in the last chapter! Red Kasei mentioned that I was using "Damien" instead of "Dorian" in chapter 12 and I can only say I hope I didn't make that mistake in any of the previous chapters! I hope it didn't cause too much confusion, and I'm terribly sorry for that slip up. But thank you for telling me, I didn't even notice...The craziest thing, that…

Here's Chapter 13, like I promised. It's nearly seven in the morning! enjoy!

**--**

**Chapitre ****Treize**

**April 10, 2007**

**TWO Days before the Wedding Rehearsal**

"Welcome home," she muttered, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he entered the sitting room of their flat. It was in complete chaos. There were teabags everywhere. He knew that Ginny drank a lot of tea when stressed, a habit she got from her mother. Bridal magazines littered the floor, as did various tidbits from samples that pertained to their wedding. A sample of fabric, a sample of cake, a sample of placemats, napkins, tuxes, etc… Harry was overwhelmed by the mess, but more so by Ginny's severe hold on him—he thought he might lose oxygen.

"Ginny, I can't breathe," Harry struggled out. The girl loosened her old but continued to smile up at him. "I'm happy to be back, and we do have a wedding to attend," he said with a slight smile. She sobbed and threw her arms around him once more, Harry believed, in happiness.

"You've missed so much since you've been at Ron's! The rehearsal plans are all set and ready. I've already called the manager at the restaurant for the dinner, and the Ministry Official has agreed to meet us at the church we're holding the wedding at!"

"I don't even know why we're holding it at a church," Harry muttered, detangling himself from Ginny to move over to the sofa covered with bridal magazines, he moved them aside and plopped down. "Neither of us is religious."

Ginny gasped, "how untrue Harry! Weren't your Uncle and Aunt Catholic?"

"What does that have to do with me? To them I was just some spawn of Satan."

"Well, I love the symbolic nature of getting married in a church—if you don't mind me saying. It'll add to the MOOD of the wedding! A big cathedral with dome shaped ceilings? Oh, I'm so excited! We're having a proper Wizarding wedding in a Muggle setting. Isn't this what you've always wanted?" Ginny asked, coming to sit in his lap. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck again, Harry, without thought, draped his arms lazily about Ginny's waist, holding her there.

Harry thought hard about that question. Maybe, five years ago, marrying her in such a setting was what he always wanted. But now? He couldn't help but picture a lean, blonde man holding his hand by the lake on The Institute's campus, pledging himself to him mind, body, and soul, for the rest of his life in a wedding ritual.

"Of course," he responded impassively. Ginny grinned, not catching on to his tone.

"So what have you decided to do for your stag night, eh? Ron is so busy about it, he won't let me in not even a tad bit—he must be planning something big!"

Harry swallowed nervously, having nearly forgotten his stag night tomorrow. Knowing Ron, it WOULD be something big…and something downright awful.

**--**

**April 11, 2007**

_I am the son  
and the heir  
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar  
I am the son and heir  
of nothing in particular…_

-The Smiths, _How Soon is Now?_

**-**

The smell of sweat was strong…too strong for Harry, actually. The stuffy, musty strip-club was filled with lustful men, half-naked women, and a suffocating odor of liquor, the sex of a woman, and something also horrifying mind-boggling. Women who were meant to fulfill a certain fantasy curled themselves around the gleaming poles that were meant to emphasize what they could _do_ to the men here. One Muggle woman, with long dyed-green hair that reached the middle of her back came up to Harry, her breasts barely contained in a scantily-looking metallic bikini top, her lower half completely bare. She threw herself on him, her arms snaking around his neck as she grinded on him. Repulsed, he quickly removed her arms from him, passing her over to Seamus who was behind him. He happily accepted the girl into his arms.

When his crew had finally pushed their way through into the VIP section, it was then that Harry was allowed to relax. There were no penny-worthy women hanging off of him, and the repugnant odor had died down.

The VIP room was dark and spacious, with a long, black marble table to seat twenty in the middle. On the walls were deep black and purple tapestries, giving the room a gothic feel. There was a stage before the table, with three long poles sprouting up from the ground to meet the ceiling. A certain fog was covering the floors, and Harry could tell this cheap touch was to add to the "mood" of the room. He could hear Ron making provocative noises with Seamus and George as they took their seats. Ron had also invited half of Harry's team, Ethel included, Dean and Neville, and Charlie and Bill. Harry sat at the head of the table, Ron on his left and Seamus on his right. They both had pints in their clammy hands. Harry could already tell that Seamus, Charlie and Ron were stinking drunk. They hooted with laughter as a red light illuminated the stage. A woman dressed in a tight fitting leather corset and a matching thong came out. Her leather knee-length boots made a thudding noise as she walked to the front of the stage, a whip in hand.

"Who's been a _bad_ boy?" she asked the men. They hollered "me!" as she grinned. Her long inky black hair had been pulled back into a fierce bun, her lips pouted and plumped, emphasized by blood-red lipstick. She gave a throaty laugh. "Do you know what we do to bad boys here?"

Seamus made a whimper as he said, "shag them senseless?"

"We REWARD them," she answered, her response eliciting more hooting. As the woman took several step backs, a line of sexily dressed women emerged from the sides of the stage, a song playing from hidden speakers as the women began to touch one another in a highly sexual way. They broke out into a synced dance, entertaining their male audience beyond belief. Harry sat uncomfortably, a small frown plastered onto his face as the women basically had dry-sex with one another.

Ron had turned around, and immediately Harry shot him a raunchy grin, as if he were enjoying the spectacle in front of him. Suddenly, one of the dancers jumped onto the marble table.

In short, she was gorgeous. Her platinum blonde hair flowed around her and her skin was delicate and pale. Her eyes were bright blue with a dash of silver eye shadow bringing them out further. Her lips were plumped and a pale pink. She was wearing a white bikini top with a white mini skirt, angel wings were attached to her back. She wore no heels like the rest of the dancers. She was, in all the men's mind, a fallen angel.

She currently stood in front of Harry, a look of silent thought on her pure face. "The groom?" she asked, smoothly getting on her knees in front of him. She placed one hand on each side of his face and smiled at him. "Such a handsome man...but so unhappy," she whispered at the end, only loud enough for Harry to hear.

"Oh isn't he?" Ron shouted with laughter. "But I'm such a fitter bloke—" he was nudged roughly in the side by Neville.

"So handsome—" she started, and immediately she slid off the table and onto Harry's lap where she rested the back of her head against his shoulder, her angel wings crushed against her back and his chest. Her hands gripped the sides of his thighs as she rolled her body into his. In complete shock, Harry sat completely motionless as the dancer grinded into him.

Harry felt trapped as this woman danced on him, his friends clapping and egging him on to get into the mood with this beautiful woman. He felt the entire room spin around him as he caught glimpses of his friends and of the woman who had came to sit on him. He caught her face, soft and delicate. He caught her. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them. She may project this falsehood of being in control and beautiful, but deep inside she was insecure and ugly as she lowered herself to such actions. Similar to how he had lowered himself to being in love with Ginny.

He had seen the look on her face—the look of pain as she took his face into her hands. She was hurting as much as he was.

--

Harry stumbled into the flat around two in the morning, not wanting to spend the evening at the hotel with Ron and the guys. He vaguely remembered Seamus, Ethel, and Charlie leaving, and a couple of the strippers with them, leaving the rest of the guys to party the night away. Harry stuck around for another hour before leaving as well.

He fumbled with his door keys, and finally made his way into the sitting room where several of Ginny's wedding magazines laid. He nearly tripped over the pile, but stilled when he heard a loud moan come from the bedroom. He listened carefully. Another cry pierced the room, and Harry recoiled. His whole body began to shake as he made his way to the bedroom. The door was slightly open, and Harry could see two figures moving wildly against each other. The blood ran to his face, and the anger blinded him. He pushed open the door as stealthily as possible to see Ginny on top of someone, naked. Her long red hair flowed down her back like a river of blood, and her face was turned up to the ceiling as she arched her back inward to meet the strides of her partner. Harry stood there for several minutes, watching as someone made love to his future wife.

"Oh fuck!" cried a voice.

"What…what is it, love?" Ginny glanced down at her lover, then to the door. She screamed.

Harry looked closer at the man underneath Ginny. It was Seamus. It was his colleague, his partner…his friend.

"NO! NO! NO!" Ginny screamed as she removed herself from off of Seamus. She grabbed a discarded sheet from the floor, throwing it around her as she moved towards Harry. Immediately, the tears were pouring. She reached out to Harry, who was still in a state of shock. "Please—Please Harry! It was a mistake! I-I-I'm drunk…I'm so sorry," she whimpered. She balled her fists around his clothing, her body shaking as she clung to him. "HARRY!" He had snapped out of his state of shock and pushed her away from him.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked his tone deathly calm. Ginny shook her head, her state frazzled and confused.

"Just tonight…I swear…I swear on _everything I love_ just tonight Harry!" He didn't know if he should believe her. Behind her, Seamus was pulling himself out of the bed—the bed Harry had made love to Ginny in—the bed he slept in every night and God knows how many other men had slept in while he was gone. But could he be jealous? Ginny's own infidelity did not seem worse than his own. He was the infidel. He had had an affair with a _man_ for nearly two months, when he was supposed to be gone for two weeks. He couldn't hate her, even though every ounce of his body wanted to. There was only one thing he could suggest.

"We should call the wedding off," Harry said numbly.

"NO!" Ginny screamed again, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around Harry's legs. She looked up at him, "No Harry, no…you can't…I love you…I love YOU."

"Ginny, we can't. This relationship won't last. It just can't."

"We've been together for five years, five years damn it—"

"I know but—" Harry started, but Ginny released an anguished shriek, her hands flying above her head in frustration as they curled into fists.

"DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW, HARRY?" she started crying again. "Don't you think I _know_?" she shook her head, wiping the tears from her face as she did so, sniffling. "I know you _fucked_ someone in France…"

The blood in Harry's veins ran cold with ice as he looked down at her in disbelief. He could do nothing but stand there. His mind screamed at him to move—to get _away_ from her—to LEAVE. But he couldn't.

"Don't you know that whenever we make love you close your eyes? You never did that before. I know you're picturing that person…I know you're thinking about them instead of _me._ I fucked Seamus, I did…but you've been fucking someone for _two_ _months. _You're _still_ fucking that person when you're inside of _me. _When you were in France, not once did you stop and think that you didn't enjoy it. Not once did you stop to think about how much you **loved** me because Harry—you loved _every minute_ of fucking that person_._" She drew in a shaking breath and said, "I loved you. I still love you." She sobbed. "I knew the night you came home and made love to me that you had cheated on me. You touched me differently…you smelled like _someone_ else. You were different, rougher. You _hurt_ me. You hurt me, Harry, and not because of passion," she looked up at him with large, sorrowful eyes. "You hurt me because I couldn't be that person."

Seamus had finally gotten dress, tripping over the articles of Ginny's clothing. He swayed, obviously still drunk from the strip club. Harry looked at him. Seamus was disoriented, his hair tousled, his lips bitten red. Harry shook his head in disgust at the sight of him. The anger in his body wanted to rip Seamus to pieces. He wanted to rip _himself_ to pieces.

"I forgive you Harry," she whispered. "I forgive you because I want to believe that you still love me. I want to believe that we can get through this. That we can get married, have babies and be _happy_ together."

"I—" Harry bit his lip. He didn't know what to say. He thought about the Weasley's. His _family._ They were his family, and maybe he would be giving that up if he gave Ginny up. He had _hurt_ her. He had been disloyal and unfaithful. He was shit to her and he didn't deserve her. He had had an affair and she knew it, yet she still loved him and wanted him. He was wanted. He cleared his throat, starting a second time,

"Behind closed doors, we're far from perfect. We both have our secrets, don't we? We both know we're not what we used to be. I don't want people looking in from outside to see our flaws, Ginny." He took in a breath, "I don't want them to see this," Harry gestured to Seamus. At this point, Harry allowed Seamus to leave the room, and ultimately the apartment, without addressing him, his gaze dropping from his back-stabbing friend. He turned his attention back to Ginny, "and you like this, crying at my feet…I don't want people to…to…_know_ about me. About what I did to you, because what I did to you was sick and wrong. I cheated on you and every day I ask Merlin for forgiveness, and it just doesn't happen. I'm plagued every night with the consequences of my actions. I broke your heart," Harry said, a sob escaping his chest. "And I broke the heart of the person in France…and every day I think about the pain I caused."

For a fleeting second, Harry thought about Draco, sprawled out on his bed, naked and pale, a bottle of liquor clenched in his hand and gray eyes staring up at the ceiling, almost dead. He thought about that image every night. He was openly crying now, his eyes squeezing shut to get rid of the image of Draco. He felt a weight dropping in his stomach, making him feel heavy. He couldn't keep himself upright, and he ended up falling to his knees due to the pressure. Another sob came from him as he shook. He hadn't cried this hard in his entire life. He thought, maybe it was because all the other times he was crying for himself—pitying himself and his own selfish pain.

He was crying for Draco, now.

He felt a hand brush a tear sliding down his cheek away. Through the tears, he saw Ginny. She was still here for him. Still wanting him and needing him. He drew her into his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair and making her shiver against him. "I'm so sorry," he heard her whisper. He clung to her, knowing that deep down inside, this painful love for Draco would _never_ go away.

* * *

No teaser this time, guys! Chapter 14 is going to take me a little while to finish, so stick around! (This is NOT a disappearing act, it's just that Chapter 14 is long and vital).

Please leave your thoughts, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I feel like it's lacking slightly, but everything will be pulled together is Chapter 14. I think after 14, there will only be two chapters left. Epilogue NOT included. I don't know if I'm even going to write one.


	14. Chapitre Quatorze

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only **

**SUMMARY:** It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris above a small café.

**AN:** I'm a horrible person that has neglected this story beyond belief. Please forgive me! I'm utterly stupid. I am so sorry! On the plus side, I feel like two years has sort of shifted my writing style, so enjoy and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapitre Quatorze**

All your dreams are over now

And all your wings have fallen down

Oh all your dreams are over now

And all your wings have fallen down

She's just like you

So why keep doing what you do

Why cut a friend

Why cruise that mean lean to an end

You could have heel-toed

To another place

You could have peeled slow

To a better face.

* * *

**_April 12, 2007_**

**_The Wedding Rehearsal_**

* * *

"LOVELY! OH, JUST LOVELY," shouted Lenore, the couple's wedding planner.

Standing beside Ginny in front of a lavishly decorated alter of bronze and gold with an embellishment of green and red rubies, Harry felt nervous. Ginny had just finished saying her vows to him. A stain glass window of a sweet baby Jesus and Virgin Mary smiled down at him, as if urging him to feel as they felt. Undeniably happy. In the background the church's choir practiced. They would perform at the couple's wedding, singing odes in simulation to their perfect nuptials. He could feel the sweat trickle from his neck down his spinal cord, and it felt cold.

Tentatively, he held Ginny's hands as Lenore bubbled on about the couple's loveliness. Their clammy palms touching spoke of the underlying betrayal they had each suffered at one another's hands. In their unison, they were less dirty, less likely to have the finger pointed at them and the word _infidel_ uttered in their presence. This is why he did not like Churches. He would be a heathen in every aspect—a murderer, a liar, a cheater.

Harry turned a wide-eyed stare to Lenore who in return shot Harry a devilish grin. _I am in Hell_, Harry thought, with a slight shake to his head, as if to remove the notion from his head. He then turned to Ginny, who wanted so badly to gain approval from Lenore that her neck was stretched out, as if to give her a swan-like appearance, her chin raised and her eyes glistening. Harry shifted uncomfortably under her stare, embarrassed at his lack of sentiment within the Church –not for himself, not for the man who stood to plan his wedding. Not even for his future wife. He was a heathen indeed.

When he had held a naked Ginny not but two nights ago he realized what his life goal is. He would live his life to satisfy Ginny. He had bestowed upon her a hurt that he would spend his life making up to her. And she will to him. They had agreed that night to carry on, as if he hadn't walked in on her riding Seamus, looking at the Irishman in a way she had never looked at _him_. Seamus would still be a groomsman, Ginny would get her dream wedding—the big celebrity wedding of the year would stay intact.

He felt the corners of his lips crack as his tongue darted out to ease the stinging. He watched as Ginny's eyes followed his tongue. He noticed that she was breathing heavily, her pose still firm, but nearly now resembling a petrified duck. He couldn't talk.

Finally, the silence between them broke, "Isn't this lovely?" she asked him with a grand smile. "I know we're going to be happy together."

He knew he would be enslaved to her and maybe there will be happy days, but never forever like most matrimonies promise.

Suddenly, the singing that had played like a hushed murmur in the back of Harry's head stopped. He finally broke eye contact with Ginny and looked around. Lenore had motion to the choir to stop and now he stood directly in front of the young couple, arms crossed and head tilted to the side.

"I don't know how I feel about this anymore," the wedding planner said, his nasal voice adding a horrifyingly annoying ting to his proclamation.

"What do you mean?" an assistant asked from the sidelines.

"Li—_zzy_!" Lenore whined. He motioned for one of his top minions to come stand beside him. A short, blonde woman made herself known. "Please, Lizzy, tell me what's wrong with this couple?"

She crossed her arms much like Lenore and tilted her head to the side as well. "They look miserable," she said plainly. She gave a slight shrug, "this is not a funeral, and this is _your_ wedding. How about a smile?" She herself projected a fake smile, as if in the order of teaching them. "See?" she murmured. Harry imitated and Ginny glowed ten times brighter, her lips stretched out painfully to fully reproduce the assistant's pseudo-warming smile. They were a happy couple about to get married.

"Now say your vows, Mr. Potter…" Lenore urged.

Harry licked his cracking lips again. "Ginny," he started his rehearsed lines.

...

Utter chaos ensued in Harry's mind as he clenched at his eighth glass of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. He had thoughts of a man pressed flush against his body, sharp angles and rough skin on skin contact. He felt sick to his stomach, having never fantasized about a man before outside of Draco. This faceless concoction in his mind was just a figment of his fractured desires. These impromptu desires were inappropriate, his current situation a gleaming red flag of the misery that would come with this chosen life. He was sitting outside the Burrow at his own dinner party.

He heard something strike, like a match, to the side of him. In the light Hermione stood, a candle in her hand.

"Sorry to startle you Harry, but I didn't see you inside and thought to look for you out here. She sat beside him on the small marble bench the Weasley's had in their backyard, casting a charm to have the candle hover close to them. "Ron and the boys are in there making a ruddy mess, I can see why you'd find refuge out here," she paused, giving him an once-over. "Are you all right, Harry?"

He felt his body lax and his brain give forth to an illusion of abrupt familiarity. This was Hermione, his best friend, and the foundation of his very being. He just looked at her, and took a sip of his firewhiskey. She continued on, "It's scary, isn't it? To have a love so grand it can light up an entire house? Don't be afraid to accept it. It's scary because you feel that you're officially solidifying your future, as if it's predictable…but remember, the love you two have for each other will grow and expand and never be predictable, but always a pleasant surprise."

Her fortune-cookie approach to his relationship with Ginny made him smile weakly as he brought the glass to his lips for another taste.

"Ginny loves me," he finally said. He tried to keep his words from slurring. He needed to say this right. Hermione nodded in agreement. "But what if I don't love her?" He saw in his peripheral vision her smile fall replaced with a look of panic. He knew that Hermione was resizing the spectrum of their conversation now. He knew that she was both horrified and eager to know.

"What are you saying? You love Ginny, Harry. You're marrying her tomorrow."

"But what if I don't love her anymore? What if I told you everything has been a lie, up until this very exact moment." His throat began to hurt; it felt as if it were stretching to allow this big amount of information to come out. His eyes began to sting at the sensation and notion of what he was about to do. "What if I love someone else?" She gasped. "What if I love that person so much, I can't imagine marrying Ginny right now! That I'd rather be shunned from my friends, my family, just to be with that person?"

Hermione gently took the glass from his hands and sat in beside her. She then held both his hands in hers tightly, prompting Harry to look her in the face. "Are you sure you're in love with this person, Harry? That it's not just lust driving you…"

"I am, I can't stop thinking about them."

"When did this happen?" He noticed her intense gaze as he slowly fell apart in front of her. His shoulders shook as he began to sob. She quickly pulled out her wand and placed a silencing charm around them. He was fully crying into his hands now. She slipped an arm around his waist and held him close to her, like a mother to an injured child.

"It started and ended when I was in Paris."

"So this person is the reason why you overstayed your visit in France?" He nodded slowly and relaxed into her protective embrace, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they spoke quietly to each other regardless of the charm she had placed. He had ceased in his sobbing, but the tears still ran down his cheeks to spill onto the collar of the black dress shirt he had decided to wear this evening.

Hermione took a deep breath. "What happened to the other woman?" At this question, Harry began sobbing again. She tried to calm him with soothing shushing sounds, but he wouldn't relent in his cries. He thought, truly he was in hell. That this moment of complete truth and utter peculiar clarity would surely condemn his soul to hell.

"The other _man_," Harry choked.

"What did you say?" she asked, her panicked tone masked from her calm outward appearance.

"It was not a woman I had an affair with, it was a man."

He could hear her voice shake as she asked, "Are you gay, Harry?" He noticed that she was not holding him as tightly as before. Perhaps he had pushed Hermione to the brink of her level of acceptance. He was the infidel, the liar, the freak. She was Hermione.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Before him, I've only been with one woman, and that is Ginny. And I've been with one man who made me feel…remarkably alive." He shook his head with a frustrated groan, "it didn't make sense. How a person can make me feel such a way. I thought I had that with Ginny but with him, the feeling was unrelenting—our dynamic was unrelenting._ I felt surreal in the most delectable sense_." He paused and drained the amount of liquor that was left in his glass and threw it to the ground, "well fuck it! He doesn't fucking want me anymore," Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand, tasting his salty tears.

"Why doesn't he want you?"

"Because I ruined it! I ruined _him_. Paris. I fell in love in _Paris_," he said the city with a hateful slur to his words. "I ruined that city and him for love."

"So what now?" Hermione asked weakly.

"I have to marry her."

"How can you marry her if you feel this way?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "Harry. I _love_ Ginny like a sister, despite her attitude and approach to the handling of your wedding. But Harry," she regained her hold around him. "Harry, you deserve to be _happy._ Your whole life has been about pleasing and saving others. Perhaps it's time to save yourself."

He scoffed. "I'm the bad guy, remember? I cheated. I don't deserve to be happy." At this, Hermione stood only to fall to her knees in front of Harry. Grasping his hands in hers once more, she looked up at him.

"Harry," she paused to draw and release a breath. "You'll hate me for this for the rest of your life, but I can't lie to you anymore. I should've told you a long time ago, but I was scared." Tears began to form in her eyes and Harry wanted so desperately to wipe the tears from her cheek. He couldn't stand seeing Hermione cry. "I caught Ginny and Seamus with each other, intimately, while you were in France. Ron and I went out for dinner one night, and I went to the women's loo and I heard two people shagging in the stall next to me. The restaurant was muggle, so I'm assuming she thought no one would recognize her voice. I heard her say his name. I heard him say hers. I left the stall immediately and told Ron I didn't want to eat there anymore and we left. Harry…I think they've been seeing each other on the side for the longest time.

"I went by the apartment to expose Ginny, to tell her that I knew a few days later. You have to understand Harry; I didn't know how to deal with this completely. It took me a few days to figure out exactly how I wanted to handle this and even then I was unsure, thinking I was meddling where I wasn't meant to. However, instead of the confrontation I had pictured in my mind, your front door was open and I found a drunk Ginny on the floor, crying. She looked done up, like she had just gotten back from partying." Hermione sighed. "She looked downright ridiculous. She could barely stand, kept calling me Lavender." Harry nodded. Ginny only floo'd Lavender to party with. "I asked her why she was crying, and well, she repeatedly said she missed you, but when I finally put her to bed, I found a letter from Seamus where she had been crying on the floor, can't believe I didn't notice the letter before. I read it probably fifty times, Harry. He didn't want to see her anymore. He mentioned that he was tired of living in the shadows with her. That he wanted their relationship to become public, regardless of you. I left the letter there, and she never brought up me being there. She was probably too drunk to even remember me being tucking her in.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I mainly came to France to try to bring you home, thinking Ginny was just rebelling, but Harry. I think she still loves him. During her doe party she was tossing back drinks, I was surprised she didn't get sick all over herself. She stupidly slipped out in front of me that she was leaving early to see a 'special friend,' Merlin knows it was Seamus. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you sooner, and now you're caught, and hurt, and I've just fucked things up even more for you, Harry." Her head fell on top of their clasped hands and she bawled at her betrayal. Harry rarely heard Hermione swear.

"I already knew," he finally said, his voice low. Hermione stared at him in utter bewilderment. "I caught them on the night of my stag party."

"And you still want to marry her?" she asked in confusion.

"How can I go in there, Hermione, and tell the whole family that I'm leaving their daughter to fight to regain the affections of a man?"

"If you don't Harry, you'll never live a day of your life fully happy."  
"Perhaps that's a burden I'm willing to carry on my shoulders." Hermione removed herself from in front of him and reclaimed her spot beside him, staring out across the vast grounds. Harry felt her shiver beside him and threw an arm about her shoulders. The alcohol that ran through his veins kept him warm. "We live the majority of our lives trying to find that particular person to make happy. Although Ginny might not be that particular person she's all that I've got. If I lose her, I lose everything. I lose the family I've come to love, and I'm not going to risk that."

"Harry, we would still love you. You have to believe that we would." He shook his head.

"But I don't. You'll feel contempt for me, betrayal. I can't."

"And what about your lover in Paris? If he's the great love of your life why would you not fight for him, bring him back here and show us your true happiness? We couldn't blame you for finding true love, Harry."

"Your wildly quixotic plans will get me killed one of these days, surely, Hermione." She gave a huff of a laugh and he squeezed her, a small sad smile on his face. "How about we go rejoin that party, eh? After all, I'm sure everyone is missing us."

...

He awoke with a start the next morning, quickly finding his glasses on the nightstand and noticing the time, it was only four am. He could hear Ron's ridiculous snoring in the bed next to him, Hermione clung to him in hopes of not falling off the slightly magically enlarged twin size bed. He remembered the night before their fussing over the old mattress and how it wouldn't take to the enlargement charm because of the bed's old age and overall stubbornness of being manipulated. Harry wished so painfully that his demeanor was similar to that of the mattress. Harry had agreed to get ready for the wedding at the Weasley's house, hence the crammed living situations. They were his family, and plus, it felt nice to have everyone in the house once more, like old times. He thought that he would wake this morning having forgotten the amount of telling from yesterday, but instead the regret hung in his belly like a fat tumor.

At that very moment he pictured Ginny in her lovely couture wedding dress, diamonds pinning her hair up as her veil covered her pale, angelic face. He pictured reaching up to remove it from her face and feeling nothing as he unveiled his bride in front of hundreds of people. No glowing feeling of love or pride. Nothing.

How would he outwardly appear at the ceremony? Like a scared groom about to promise his youth away? Maybe he'll come off as being so jumpy that people will think he's so pathetic they'll feel sympathy. Others will think it cute. The rare few will know it's all a lie.

He stood from the squeaky twin size bed and made his way out the bedroom to Ginny's. He just wanted to see her before the rest of the household awoke. He just needed to see her face, see the face that would ultimately sign his death certificate. Approaching her door he found it locked. To anyone else in the house, they would knock one more time and with no response, and come back at a less ungodly hour. Because this was Harry, and she was his wife to-be, he damned such proprieties to hell. He waved a hand over the doorknob and it clicked softly, slowly opening. Because Ginny was the only girl, she got her own room, with no hassle or fear of needing to share her bedroom this day, since it was her wedding day. She wanted to keep it traditional. No seeing the groom before the wedding and vice versa. She made that very clear the day before.

However, he fathomed that perhaps Ginny thought it acceptable to have one of his groomsmen visit her before her wedding. Sleeping beside her was Seamus. She looked so happy, lying there with him. The blanket covered their obvious nakedness, and Seamus held her in a way that was protective and unforgiving. They weren't sorry at all for their relationship, just unfortunate in its handling and timing.

He sighed softly at the sight of them.

.

At around seven am the whole house will wake up. Hermione will be the first to happen upon Ginny's wide open room to find the girl still in the arms of Seamus and deeply asleep, Ginny's alarm clock sounding so loudly it can stir the dead. Hermione will feel Harry's magic in the air, knowing that the couple before her was charmed to oversleep and not hear the alarm. Hermione will find this letter to read aloud to the family and smile:

_My Loved Ones,_

_As you can see, Ginny and Seamus belong together. I am an inconvenience to their happiness, and yet they are still able to meet in secret and fulfill their aspirations for one another. Do not be angry with them. Love is a mighty web that will catch us all and devour us whole. I have felt such a sensation before, but not with Ginny. Do not misunderstand this declaration; although I love her, I am not _in_ love with her. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Forgive me for the betrayal that I have set upon this family, I'm sorry that I can't be the son-in-law, brother-in-law, husband that you all want me to be. Ginny and I aren't meant to be together and although I tried, I am tired of punishing myself for the failures in our relationship. _

_I am not mad at Ginny or Seamus, simply sad that I kept them apart for so long. Please do not look for me, as I do not want to be looked for. I am going to fulfill the same aspirations Ginny and Seamus are fulfilling._

_You won't understand this, and you won't want to. But I have to fight for love, a chance at being happy, without being blinded by what's proper to do and what's best for everyone. I am being selfish, but I can't begin tell you how wonderful it feels._

_Enjoy this start of a new life, Ginny. I love you and will always be here for you._

_I will see you all again one day._

_Love,_

_H_

_

* * *

_

Soft, soft cruel

Can't we change our minds?

We kill what we build

Because we own the sky.

* * *

He found his shoes buried in sand, the sun beating down on form, his jeans and t-shirt suddenly becoming a heavy burden under the rays. He looked out across the vastness that was the body of water, his body yearning for the contact. Suddenly, Harry began to strip out of his attire as he made his way to the edge of the water. When he was finally down to his boxers, Harry entered the water. He closed his eyes, the coldness of the water hitting him with a sharp blow each time a wave came through. He felt his feet dig into the wet sand, wanting him to be lodged into it and trip, trapped. He kept moving, despite the deeper waves trying to push him back to shore back to his old life. He kept moving. When he was shoulders-deep, he stopped, looking up at the still clouds above him. He felt the undercurrent of the waves putting such a force on him that he felt he would be taken away by it, thrown underwater and suffocated. With all his might, he stood still and listened. He listened to the crashes and the howling that the waves created against one another, like a broken record that sang of endless pain. The violent waves wouldn't still, not against the glaring sun, and the crisp and clear sky. It would make its noise forever, crying out in foul play and deception as the sky blatantly lied. There was no stillness and silence on ground. It was a nightmare, a nightmare Harry was too fond of. He could allow this nightmare to continue, or he could just let go.

Without a final thought, Harry took a further step into the water, immersing himself completely.

He let go.

.

Draco dropped his coffee mug, the porcelain breaking against his tile kitchen floor, shouting aloud. He clenched his stomach, a pain shooting through him that felt like the tip of a knife piercing his flesh deeply. He groaned softly as the pain ploughed through him, looking down at his stomach in puzzlement, half expecting blood to appear on his hand. He shook his head as Dorian ran into the kitchen.

"Draco, are you okay?" the other man looked down at where the mug had shattered on the floor, and back up to Draco's terrified face.

"I don't know," he started slowly while leaning against the kitchen counter for support, "I had this horrid sharp pain…but it's slowly going away now."

Read the AN at the top. 2 more chapters to go and we'll be at "the end" folks. Thanks for sticking around for PVYS!


	15. Chapitre Quinze

**Pour Vos Yeux Seulement: For Your Eyes Only**

* * *

**SUMMARY:** It was an illicit affair born one morning in Paris above a small café.

**AN:** So, it hasn't been a complete year yet! I'll TRY to finish the last chapter BEFORE NEXT Sunday! So keep checking back!

* * *

**Chapitre Quinze**

* * *

We gather matters of the heart  
So we can act a fool  
It's incomplete without you  
The silver soul is running through  
It's a vision, complete illusion, yeah.

It is happening again.

* * *

April 12th

When Draco awoke to the sun gently warming his face, stretching his body and arms languidly, he noticed on his table a small vase with freshly picked cherry blossoms. He smiled, for these few branches spoke of the beauty Paris was evolving into this month. The month of April brought beautiful flowers such as these, along with its stunning, awe-inspiring landscapes and lively, colorful streets. Draco indeed fell in love with Paris all over again during the spring time. It was a time of rebirth, the act of dead coming back to a blissful life.

"Good morning, darling."

Draco made a humming noise and smiled at the man leaning against the doorframe, his brilliant blue eyes searching his half naked form. "Good morning, love. I see you've been busy this morning?" Draco asked, a sweet aroma filtering into their bedroom. Dorian smiled brilliantly and motioned towards the flowers.

"A bit of spring for you," he said, leaving the doorframe to pounce on Draco's body. He brought his lips down onto his and they shared an intimate yet chaste kiss. When Dorian pulled away, he laid beside Draco to pull him close.

"Thank you, they're lovely," he responded, glancing at the blossoms once more. Dorian kissed him on the cheek.

"Come and get ready, then, I have made breakfast, as you can smell," he said, sniffing the air. "And Jacques was kind enough to bring up freshly grounded coffee beans before he opened the shop."

"Mmm," Draco started, closing his eyes and leaning into the other man, "Jacques is heaven sent." Dorian nodded. Even though his eyes were closed, Draco could feel Dorian's gaze upon him. "All right, I'm getting up." Dorian kissed him once more before jumping off the bed and quickly heading out the bedroom towards the kitchen.

Once gone, Draco rolled over to his side, again looking at the blossoms. They were so delicate and fragile, as if, with the wrong gust of wind they would fall apart. He felt that way. Dorian made him undeniably happy, and he was swift to make up for his mistakes. But with the comings of spring Draco couldn't help his mind from wandering to the green of a particular person's eyes.

"Bonjour, Draco!" Jacques called, upon seeing Draco descend the stairs. "Comment allez-tu aujourd'hui?" he asked, as Draco took a seat beside him behind the register.

"I think wonderful, Jacques. I think I am simply wonderful today," Draco responded with a light sigh. "et toi?"

Jacques smiled. "I am wonderful as well. It's a beautiful new day filled with promise," he responded contentedly. "I see you are pink about the cheeks," Draco's cheeks grew pinker. "I like this color on you, oui? You look healthy."

"I feel healthy. Since Dorian has come back…it's been almost a blessing and a curse. A blessing to have someone here that is able to pick up the pieces and help me put them back together, but a curse because…it is just so terrifying…savez-tu?"

"Oui, I know completely of what you speak of, mon cher. You have to be careful, Draco. What you have gone through is worse than anything I can imagine, worse than the Great War, possibly," Draco injected a dubious laugh, "And it will take time to heal."

"Today is his wedding, did you know that?" Draco asked quietly, picking a piece of invisible lint off of his jeans.

"Oui."

"I just don't understand," he started, before stopping himself. "It doesn't matter! Forget it. He is history. Bon débarras!"

"Say so only if you mean it, Draco."

"You know I mean it."

"I know. So where is your young fellow?" Jacques asked, pushing a mug of sweet smelling coffee into Draco's hands.

He took the cup and blew onto the surface. "He has decided to answer some posts and do some researching. He's so persistent with his work," he took a sip. "And quite frankly, I enjoy the time alone."

Jacque gave him a small frown, and started to wipe the counter clean. Draco ignored the gesture, choosing to continue sipping the coffee as he people watched.

"You know, mon cher," Jacques started, almost hesitantly, "If you feel pressured to be with Dorian at all to keep the thoughts of 'Arry away, it will not last forever."

Draco shrugged slightly, not really looking anywhere now. "I am with Dorian and it is wonderful, it's _different._ I don't feel pressured, but I feel comfortable and…permanent, Jacques. The man brought me flowers for God's sake."

The older man chuckled sadly, "Flowers are a great sign, mon cher, but are you truly happy?" He faced Draco now, urging him to look at him. "Sometimes, I worry about you now, more than ever, Draco. I am getting old," he smiled. "One day this shop will be yours, and I want to make sure you're happy and right when I go."

"Oh, don't talk like that Jacques!" Draco chastised lightly. "I don't ever want to think of such things, you're going to be around forever," he paused for a sigh, "I miss Harry greatly, don't get me wrong, not a day goes by that my heart doesn't ache at the near thought of him. But he's getting _married_ today. Our time together was magical, but it does not compare to what he has with _her_."

"She is a mistake," Jacques said. "And he is making the poorest mistake of his life if he marries her. I know he loves you. I saw it in his eyes _every day_ he was here with you. To deny that would be to deny the very oxygen we breathe…It is a poor mistake, indeed."

"But alas, we all dig our own graves, do we not?" Draco responded sadly. "I knew from the beginning about the situation of their relationship, and I still pushed for him to be with me. I foolishly thought we would be forever."

"Mon cher, you were not foolish." Draco was not inclined to respond to Jacques assurance, his gaze falling back to the people bustling by outside the café. Although the sun shined brilliantly, warming the Parisian scene, Draco couldn't help the chill that consumed him to his very bones.

Draco stood in front of a small, black marble bar in _Las Halles_, a sweet aroma of perfume pulsating from a group of young twenty-something year old girls and boys conversing as they smoked a quick cigarette in the beautiful weather. Dorian had wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, as he waved at the group of people before the establishment. He suddenly questioned why he had agreed to come out with Dorian's friends in the first place. He recognized a few people enough to make him weakly smile as they engulfed him. One person he recognized immediately and smiled at was the flaming-haired Dominique. She disturbingly reminded Draco of Ginny, but her hair was longer, thicker, and wavier than the Weasel's, with a strong, lithe and desirable body. She also had a poise that was mysterious and seductive; he couldn't help but notice her on campus. As Draco was a recreational smoker, someone had quickly thrust a cigarette in his hands for him to enjoy, breaking his smile from the red head. He stood and nervously puffed it for the next fifteen minutes, not particularly listening to the swift, uninteresting conversation his peers were seemingly enamored in.

He found himself sitting beside a roaring Dorian, hunched over as he laughed heartily into his glass of wine. The group of seven or eight people he was around also holding their sides. He sat quietly, having realized his waitress and old friend Monique was not working, his presence felt unimportant. He was almost like a complete stranger watching in from the window. He was the _flanuer_, but even then the journey wasn't pleasurable. Draco sighed as a blonde girl, a friend of Dorian's, came to stand between the two of them seated. She leaned over, planting a kiss on Dorian's cheek as a camera flashed. Draco then felt a strong arm, the blonde girl's arm, wrap around his shoulder as the flash went off once more. Draco closed his eyes tightly, the abrupt light hurting his eyes. When he opened them, the girl was once again wrapped about Dorian as they laughed and spoke loudly. He turned to the side, only to notice that Dominique was watching him.

"Bon soir, Draco," she said sweetly, a smile playing her lips. Draco smiled weakly back, barely able to hear the girl over the laughter.

"How have you been, Dominique? Did your semester end well?"

She shrugged, "I've been as good as ever. It is a new day, I am here, with these…interesting people…" she motioned towards her lot of friends, who were now singing a song together, barely audible over their obnoxious chortles. "My blood is warm, and I was incredibly satisfied with my semester. As I'm sure you did well with yours?" she gave him an expectant look, and he nodded. She was in his Potions class, and knew he worked hard. "You look a bit worse for wear. A euro for your thoughts?"

"It's nothing," Draco assured, with a wave of his hand. "Just a tad tired, with all this excitement," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

She nodded, her eyes lifted upward as if she was struggling to remember something. "Yeah, the last time I was here, I saw you. I saw you with Harry Potter." Draco felt the tips of a million tiny sharp, hot needles prod his entire body at the mention of Harry's name. "Oui…It is coming back to me…my friends debated for hours afterwards whether that was him. I knew because I saw him, again."

"Where?"

It was then that Draco felt Dorian's arm coming around him, breaking him from the silent, personal tunnel of conversation he had had with Dominique. He was brought violently back into the noise and bustle of Dorian, his friends, and the rambunctious bar. He looked over to Dominique, who was swept into a one-sided conversation with a very talkative blonde. She gave him a glance, every few seconds.

Draco leaned into Dorian, "Mon cher, puis-je avoir une fume?" Dorian gave him a squeeze and produced a cigarette for Draco. He took it from him, sending Dominique a slow, sideways glance as he stood from his seat.

.

When Draco drew his first puff, Dominique had slipped between a group of people who were entering the bar, her face not betraying a bit of her emotion. She stood coolly in front of Draco, producing a cigarette to dangle between fire-read lips. She lit it and took a drag.

"He was here and you two seemed very into each other. Then, one day," she took another drag jumping headfirst into the conversation, "during winter interim, I ran into Harry Potter on campus." She smiled. "He called me some name, je ne sais pas…Ginny? I think? He said he was in love, too in love. With you."

"Did you seek him out?" Draco asked, anger etching his voice. He did not know Dominique very well, but he did not peg her for a celebrity hawk.

She gave him another small smile. "Mon cher," she started. "I come from a long family of Seers. We see what others do not see, or want to see. We can read a person's soul from a mere glance if we want to," she said quietly. "He simply called out to me."

Draco snorted, "Forgive me, but I have little regard for Divination." "

It is not my job to install belief in you, Draco. Your young man was wandering aimlessly, his heart on his sleeve. His thoughts were so loud they consumed me from across the courtyard. On one hand, he wanted what he had _promised_ to so many people: love, a family, marriage, on the other: he wanted Paris. He wanted _you_." Draco gave a cold little laugh and flicked his own cigarette, only for Dominique to produce a new one before him, which he took and lit.

"He didn't want me."

"Fear is a disgusting demon, Draco."

"Don't you think I know?" he spat bitterly. "Don't you think I was, and still am, afraid? Fear reared its ugly head every time I felt I was losing him. And one day, he was gone."

"The courses of true love never did run smooth," she said sweetly. Draco paled at her reference, his stomach turning at the thought.

"Is that what you think we had, _Seer_? Obstacles? He fucking broke my heart." he said the last bit, scornful. Her eyes narrowed before fixing him with an apathetic stare. She drew in another drag and flicked the cigarette onto the curb.

She ran a hand through her long locks. "Why did I come out here, Draco?" He bit his lip, his heart egging him to ask the question that had been burning through him once he came outside. The question he didn't even know if she knew the answer to. His fidgeting seemed to melt away Dominique's cool demeanor, as she closed the space between them and placed a hand against Draco's cheek. "You still love him and yet you close your eyes against the cheek of another. You're not alone in your hurt, Draco. Surely you know that true love, no matter its obstacles, always comes up on top?"

"Will he come back?" he asked hastily, as if trying to prevent the words from slipping out, but failing. She withdrew her hand and took a step back, as if surveying him.

"He was a fool to leave you, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool." With that, she turned and reentered the bar, leaving him alone to wallow in his thoughts.

.

Later that night, Dominique's chilly voice filtering through his mind, he stood in the kitchen, preparing a mug of coffee to enjoy as Dorian practiced his cello. He often enjoyed when his beau would bring out the monstrously beautiful instrument. He paused at the sink as Dorian warmed up with Bach's Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1, the movement filling Draco with an ache in his chest that seemed to linger. He knew that ache to be the remembrance of Harry, never fully leaving his body. If he licked his lips, he could still remember the taste of him, if he touched his neck; he could still remember the feel of him. He was a lost man indeed.

_Harry. Harry. Harry, _his mind rang out. As he lifted the cup to his lips to blow on the surface, the smell flared into his nostrils, his head becoming dizzy from the tantalizing smell. He tipped the cup upward so the hot liquid could spill against his tongue, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck standing erect. He closed his eyes and imagined the raven haired man cupping the back of his head as he drank from Draco. He drank from his very soul, and he tasted so sweet of freshly brewed coffee, the smell of baked cakes surrounding them. It was at this moment that Draco felt the most horrid pain shoot through him. He dropped the coffee mug, watching as the porcelain broke against his tile kitchen floor, flying out to cover the ground before him. He clenched his stomach, a pain shooting through him that felt like the tip of a knife piercing his flesh deeply. He groaned softly as the pain ploughed through him, looking down at his stomach in puzzlement, half expecting blood to appear on his hand. He shook his head in confusion as Dorian ran into the kitchen.

"Draco, are you okay?" the other man looked down at where the mug had shattered on the floor, and back up to Draco's terrified face.

"I don't know," he started slowly while leaning against the kitchen counter for support, "I had this horrid sharp pain…but it's slowly going away now."

Dorian rushed to him, his hand replacing the hand that Draco held against his stomach. "Are you sure it's going away?"

Draco blinked slowly, the question striking a nerve in him. "It'll never go away," he responded. "How can I just ask for the pain to go away if it means feeling him?"

"What are you talking about, Draco?" Dorian asked, his brows furrowing. "Did you hit your head, mon cher? You look paler than usual. Please, come sit?" Dorian led Draco to their small table, where Draco sat heavily, his head falling onto the table. He closed his eyes lightly, tears pushing their way from the corner of his lids. A sob escaped him, and he felt Dorian kneel beside him. Dorian hooked a finger under his chin, pulling his face forward to meet his eyes. His look was that of concern, even fear, for Draco. Draco's watery face cracked into a silly grin.

"The courses of true love never did run smooth," he said, before pulling himself from Dorian's grasp, to clean the mess on their kitchen floor.

* * *

When Harry awoke he noticed two very simple things: one, his chest was on fire and two, he was soaked to the core. Sitting up, he started coughing uncontrollably, spitting up water. He wildly looked around for his eyes to finally land on Ron. "You left my baby sister to come kill yourself at the beach? Mind you, it took me about five times to revive you. Thank Merlin Hermione taught me revival the muggle way."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Harry answered, his throat raw and his voice weak.

"Really, because when I traced you here, it _looked_ like you were trying to kill yourself." There was a pregnant pause as Harry shook his head slowly. Harry surveyed before him a deeply troubled Ron. He was dressed in track pants, a grey hoodie and black shirt underneath. He had come looking for Harry in his sleep clothes. The redhead was pacing back and forth, his arms flying up as he spoke. He closed his eyes several times, as if trying to wish something away. Harry began to tense up, knowing Ron was prepping himself to speak frankly, even brutally. "I know what's happened, Harry. Everyone knows now. Mum…Dad…_the entire family._ We know that sometimes things…they don't work out…and we're not going to point the finger in this…this is between you and Ginny…but _this_…what I just witnessed…" again he closed his eyes. "I thought you were _dead_, Harry…I had to revive you FIVE FUCKING TIMES!"

"I'm sorry, Ron."

Ron ceased in his pacing to stare openly at Harry, his eyes filled first with shock, then confusion, anger, and worry worry. Harry hated himself as he averted his gaze from his best mates'. "Don't be mad," he broke the silence, his voice hardly heard over the crashing of the waves. "Please don't be mad, but Hermione told me about the conversation you two had at the party last night."

Despite the heat of the sun glaring down at him, Harry felt oddly cold, his insides freezing. "Harry…Harry…" he said, sitting heavily beside him. "Why didn't you _tell_ me, mate? Why did you feel you had to hide this, and from me of all people? I love you, Harry. You're my best mate and nothing could ever break that apart, do you understand that? I don't care if you're gay or straight, Harry. I just care that you are true and happy."

Harry wanted so desperately to stick his head into the sand in shame. "I'm a bloody fool," he sobbed. "I'm _sorry_ I did this." He glanced over to Ron finally, his eyes shining, to find that the other man's eyes were also bright. Ron closed the space between them by throwing an arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him close. "I don't know why I didn't tell you."

"We've been drifting apart, I know it. I…I'm sorry too, Harry. When you went to France, I was so angry at you for leaving Ginny, but…I started noticing some behavior changes in her. She seemed…secretive. I had my doubts," he paused, moving a hand to grasp to bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly as he shook his head. "I didn't say anything because I wanted you two to work it out. I just kept lying to myself. I didn't want to think my baby sister was cheating on my best mate. And I didn't want to think my best mate unhappy and trapped…when I pulled you from the water…bloody hell, Harry, I couldn't breathe. I bloody well felt like I was going to drown right along with you in that water. We all love you too much, _I_ love you too much. But I failed you."

"You didn't fail me, Ron. I failed myself. I failed…Ginny. I failed my lover in Paris." Ron shook his head sadly. "I want to be honest with you about this, Ron." Harry removed Ron's arm from around his shoulders and positioned himself so he could better see Ron. "I love your sister. Since meeting her when we were kids, Ron, I loved her," he said with a shrug. "And she's the only woman I've ever…been with," Harry said, looking away from Ron. "But as time went on, and this wedding becoming overwhelming, I found myself feeling lost, out of touch with myself and Ginny. I became insecure, depressed even," Harry admitted shamefully. "With the release of Model 3000, and the training of the Team, I felt like I was losing my mind. For nearly two years I've felt this way."

"In France, I found myself dropped off at a corner café my very first night. The owner, an older man by the name of Jacques, was very kind to me. He helped me get a cab to my hotel, and I came back to the café the next day, intrigued by the older gent and his café. I came back only to run into someone I could hardly stand. Draco Malfoy," Harry smiled weakly at the memory of them bumping into each other, his lips almost numb. He noticed that Ron had stiffened at the mention of Draco. He continued on. "He lived and worked at the café. For five years he'd been studying and working in Paris, and I soon found out after the encounter that he was a son-figure to Jacques," Harry voice became tight. "Fists flew, swear words flew, hell, even customers flew. It was a destructive first encounter in year's experience, to saw the least. We tried to reconcile by going out for a drink. After that night," Harry paused and closed his eyes, remembering when he and Draco slipped in front of the small ominous bar in _Les Halles_, and how he had caught the blond, only to bring his lips down softly mere seconds afterwards. "I was no longer the old, aimless Harry." He shrugged. "I felt like I had entered my own, private beautiful universe with Draco. I felt real."

"You fell in love with Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes, and I broke his heart. I will never forgive myself," Harry sobbed, his hand coming up to remove his glasses. "I fucked up."

"Harry…" Ron started uncertainly, but stopped. Harry took in Ron, the other man's face twisted up. "I'm trying to still fully comprehend that you fell in love with _Draco Malfoy_ in France…so please…explain to me further how this happened?"

"He showed me what love is, Ron!" Harry shouted, becoming angry at Ron's skeptical tone. "Draco showed me the potentiality of my own self. He opened me up, Ron. He made me feel human, just human. It was blissful, peaceful, and reflective. I knew I wanted to stay forever with him.

"So why did you come back?"

He shook his head, "because I am…a coward…a failure."

"And now you want him back?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Harry, I don't think I can ever truly understand the depth of your feelings for Malfoy, but I want you to be happy with the person you truly love. You still love him?" Harry nodded. "Do you reckon he still loves you?"

"No," Harry sighed. "I wrote to him, but his response rejected any initiation from me."

It was then that Ron began to rummage through his back pocket to pull out a small, velvet box. He opened it and inside held a small, gold key. Ron held the box in front of Harry. "This key was meant for you and Ginny after the wedding. Hermione and I got you both a portkey to France as a wedding present," Ron smiled and shrugged. "I think it still serves an important purpose, though."

It took Harry a few moments for the bit of information to register in his head. When it did, though, he released a watery sigh. He turned to Ron. "You're the best mate a poor sod like me can have," Harry said with a rough laugh. Ron began to pat him on the back, a small smile cracking his lips.

"Go find him."

* * *

"I WANT to do this for you, mon cher."

"But why _today_?"

"Because, you've been quite sad lately, and I want to rid you of these ill thoughts."

"But at the Eiffel Tower, Dorian? Can you get anymore cliché? That horrid concoction of an icon is pathetic. Especially with all the lights on it, making it look even more hideous? It's a waste of time, and money, if you ask me. We can eat downstairs."

Dorian stood before Draco, who was lounging underneath the covers of their bed. He did not want to be bothered with Dorian's insistent need to cheer him up. Lately, the young man had become nervous around Draco. He was constantly putting his hand in his pocket, as if clenching something and his brow was always furrowed. Draco threw the covers over his head and moaned.

"Don't you want to spend a lovely, special day out with me?"

"Not really. I'd rather just stay home."

"To flounder in your filth and sadness, Draco? Non! We're going _out_!"

"Dorian, if you want to go have lunch with your friends, please attend to them. I don't need to be there every time you decide to have a laugh. Your friends are your loved ones, after all."

Dorian's face grew dark at the comment. "I always knew you disliked my friends, but here, here I have the proof in your spiteful remark!"

"Leave me _alone_, Dorian, please!"

Dorian ripped the covers from over Draco. "You're acting like an _imbecile_, Draco. I can't help but be reminded of how you ruined our relationship the first time around with these _foolish_ antics."

Draco sat up, his eyes ablaze with anger. "Vas te faire encule! Fuck you, fuck YOU, Dorian! How _dare_ you say I'm the reason we did not last."

"Who is 'Arry, ah? Who is he?" Dorian's voice boomed, jolting Draco. His eyes grew wide at Dorian's question.

"How…?"

"You cry out for him in your sleep, _who is he_? A current lover? Someone you are cheating on me with?"

"You pig," Draco spat. "I would never cheat on you."

"Then what do you call this, Draco? Ah? It's not a relationship when the man you love cries out in the middle of the night for a complete STRANGER!"

"HE'S NO ONE!"

"Then stop," Dorian suddenly grew quiet as he took a seat beside Draco on the bed. "Stop, please, Draco, before we cross another line. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life together with you…and all I ask is that you put aside whatever sadness you are feeling and come out with me today."

"I won't go."

"Draco! Please stop being difficult. Get up; we're going to have lunch. Together."

"Why can't we just—"

"S'il vous plait, arrêtez, Draco! PLEASE! Just STOP!" Dorian roared, startling Draco out of his wits end.

Draco paused in his response. _What was he doing?_ He questioned himself wildly. This man wanted to love him, and here he was arguing with him after receiving a sweet invitation to dine at the Eiffel Tower. Draco lowered his head, suddenly interested in his pale, cold hands. He felt lifeless, and just then, Dorian wrapped his strong arms around Draco. Nearly crushing him.

"Get up, shower, and come with me. You will not regret today, mon cher." Dorian kissed the side of Draco's cheek.

"D'accord."

When they entered the café not long after their argument, Draco was greeted by a cheerful Jacques, who offered them a cup of coffee and pastry. Dorian turned it down for them, insisting that they hail a cab.

"I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee," Draco whined as Dorian glanced through the selection of pastries.

"Oui, mon cher, but we'll be late for our reservation. Perhaps when we come back, Jacques? I'm eager to try your banana-walnut and blueberry bread."

"Oui, I'll make sure you receive the freshest slice!" Jacques responded, waving the two young men goodbye.

As Draco slid into the cab Dorian had hailed, he did not notice that just mere minutes after they pulled away from the front of the café, a one Harry Potter rounded the corner of the street, a small travel sack on his back, and his face bright with determination.

* * *

**Please leave reviews!** **Please leave reviews!****Please leave reviews!****Please leave reviews!****Please leave reviews!****Please leave reviews!****Please leave reviews!****Please leave reviews!** Only one more chapter left of PVYS and that'll be the end.


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